You Came Back to Me
by T. Bryson
Summary: After the events of ME3, Commander Shepard awakens on Earth and is taken to a hospital for care. His friends, all of whom thought he was dead, go to the hospital to be at his side as he recovers. Heavy on character development/interaction. Tali/Shepard focus.
1. Chapter 1

Commander Shepard saw blue.

This struck him as curious. He could see. That meant he was alive. The blue thing he saw – it was the sky, Earth's sky, the bright vibrant blue of a beautiful day, and he could feel a light breeze caressing his face. It couldn't be a hallucination. Hallucinations didn't have light breezes.

He quickly wished he was hallucinating, though, as he became aware that every part of his body felt like it was on fire and being crushed by an Alliance dreadnought simultaneously. He tried to scream out in pain, but his mouth, or his vocal cords, or both, didn't cooperate – his mouth merely opened silently. The only sound that resulted was a loud _crack _as his jaw protested.

Commander Shepard saw black as he closed his eyes. Where was he? What was happening – why was he in such awful condition –

_Reapers_

His eyes snapped open again, and his heartbeat hastened in a sudden adrenaline rush. The Reapers. He was fighting the Reapers. Earth had been conquered, was being bastardized and raped by those damned sentient machines, part of their cycle, a cycle where all advanced organic life in the galaxy was snuffed out for the sake of –

_The created will always rebel against their creators_

No, he wasn't fighting the Reapers. He had managed, barely, to get to the Citadel and activate the Crucible. The Reapers were destroyed. He had chosen to destroy them. We destroy them, or they destroy us.

_Anderson._

Anderson was dead. The Illusive Man had made Shepard fire his gun, and the bullet had sealed Anderson's death warrant.

_I killed him._

That wasn't true, the rational part of his brain knew. He had just been the Illusive Man's puppet, an unwilling part of the Indoctrinated zealot's demonstration of power. That rationale didn't ease the pain. Anderson had died sitting next to Shepard, looking out on Earth, and the bullet in his side had come from the Commander's pistol. But that wasn't all.

_The Geth._

_ EDI._

He had killed them all.

He felt heavy. Not just his body, which might as well have been a corpse. It was his heart that felt heaviest.

With considerable effort he turned his head to the side. Rubble gave way at the movement, trickling down – he was apparently on a slope made entirely of the stuff, bits and pieces of ruined buildings and vehicles. He wondered how many corpses lay around him, beneath him, waiting to be discovered. He wondered how much longer until he joined them. The thought, strangely, gave him a sense of peace. So many lives had ended because of him. New lives. The geth, and EDI, were just starting to become aware that they were well and truly alive – before he killed them.

He still saw blue, but now there were buildings reaching up into it. A city – London. He remembered London now, the desperate push in to the city, fighting through hordes of Reaper ground troops to reach the beam of light that would take them to the Citadel. He remembered the Reaper destroyer that he and his squad had helped to take down with some well-placed missiles. He remembered Harbinger, and he remembered the red beam that consumed his world.

There was none of that now. What Shepard saw now was a picture of peace that made his breath – which, he observed, was already coming in short ragged spurts – catch in his throat. There was considerable damage, buildings in varying states of disrepair, dozens of columns of smoke. But there was reconstruction, too, massive cranes, scaffolding being erected, vehicles buzzing around, and that blue sky, so blue, not gray and foreboding as it had been under Reaper reign. Life, which he had fought so hard to preserve, was continuing. For a moment, he felt he could jump up and join in the rebuilding efforts despite his injuries, so great was his inner jubilation.

_Murderer_

The joy died as quickly as it had come and he squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face back upward. At what cost was that peace bought? How many millions had died for this peace? Not just the synthetics that died collaterally when the Crucible fired – how many souls had been horribly extinguished while he flew around in the Normandy, playing diplomat for aliens stubbornly consumed by their ancient prejudices?

No. This was a beautiful thing, this peace, but it felt wrong for him to be here. He had fought. He had tried so hard, but it wasn't enough – he couldn't save everybody, and that, to him, was the worst failure.

_Humans want to save everybody_

Garrus. Despite himself, the thought of his old turian friend brought a weak smile to Shepard's cracked and bloody lips, which he regretted instantly, as it made his face feel as though it would break. Turians, Garrus had told him once, considered it a victory if, at the end of a battle, even one man was left standing, but humans wanted to save everybody. He was right. And he had been right, too, when he said in the battle against the Reapers, that goal was impossible. Shepard found little consolation in his friend's wisdom now.

He let his eyes open and stared up into that endless blue sky, which wasn't actually endless at all but just a thin blanket beyond which lay an entire galaxy full of life, although just how much less life there was now he could only speculate. Blackness, tinged with red, was creeping in to that blue, from the corners of his vision.

_I'm dying._

This didn't bother him. Yes, he was dying, and that was as it should be. It wasn't that he felt undeserving of life – it was more that he felt it was his time to die. He was a relic. His purpose was fulfilled, even if it had been fulfilled in a way that repulsed him.

Shepard inhaled deeply, wincing reflexively as his ravaged innards exploded with pain, and then exhaled. The blackness crept in ever more, snaking its tendrils into the peaceful blue sky. Let death take him, then, to where it would. Let him join all those friends who had gone before him, Anderson and Ashley Williams and Navigator Pressly, Mordin Solus and Legion. Once he might have scoffed at the idea that synthetics could ever have an afterlife or even the concept of one, but Legion had been so alive. If only he could talk to Legion and explain why he had done it, why the geth had to die – maybe his friend would understand and give forgiveness – but how could he, when Shepard was responsible for the death of his entire race –

Another deep exhalation, another corresponding burst of explosive pain. He wanted to forget, to push all of these thoughts out of his mind, but he couldn't allow that. He was about to die, and he wanted to die with some semblance of pride – he would bear the full brunt of his guilt, painful as it was.

Peace continued to reign over his body as numbness, like the blackness in his vision, began to creep in, granting some blissful relief. Shepard felt his muscles relax, and he realized his back had been arched for some time as it slowly collapsed back onto the rubble. The only thing to do now was wait.

He had smiled not long ago – what was it that had made him smile?

_There's no Shepard without Vakarian_

Shepard couldn't resist another grin as the image of Garrus popped into his mind, but this time, there was sadness in it. This was really it – he had said his goodbyes to the turian before the final charge for the Citadel, but now there was no doubt. He wouldn't see Garrus again.

If there was one thing that gave him real solace now, it was remembering the friends he had traveled with over the last few years. Garrus, who had gone from a stern C-Sec officer to a wittily sarcastic gunslinger; Liara T'Soni, whose cute naivety had turned into an almost dark cynicism but who had always remained true to herself and her friends; Kaidan Alenko, powerful human biotic, proud Alliance soldier, friend and brother to Shepard; James Vega, a man whose apparent toughness and ruthlessness was belied by a deep concern for everyone around him; Tali'Zorah –

_Tali_

Shepard's eyes abruptly widened, his relaxed and increasingly numb body stiffening, as adrenaline rushed through his veins.

_I have a home_

_Come back to me_

"Tali," Shepard whispered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His heart was beating loudly in his ears – the darkness in his vision had stopped its encroachment, staved off by something unexpected: a desire to survive.

_I can't die. I can't do that to her, not again. Not now._

The gnawing guilt that had consumed him so quickly after regaining consciousness was pushed aside, replaced only by the image of Tali'Zorah vas Normandy (or was it vas Rannoch now, after all, she had a homeworld, they had fought for it together, achieved it together), the young quarian woman who had very unexpectedly stolen his heart and given him something to fight for besides not dying. It was like an injection of medi-gel, these thoughts, and a semblance of strength returned to his limbs.

This had two immediate results: one, it gave Shepard hope, and two, it dispelled all of the comforting numbness that had begun consuming him when he resigned himself to death. Pain flared up in his body as freshly as though he was feeling it for the first time, and Shepard was completely and utterly convinced, as his vision went black and then returned to normal and then repeated this cycle several times, that he would die.

But he couldn't die. He had to get back to Tali.

Shepard fought, and if there was one thing he was good at, it was fighting. He focused all of his inner strength on repulsing unconsciousness and was, at least for now, successful; the adrenaline rushing through his veins was fuel enough for that much. That left the daunting task of rising to his feet. Taking it slow, he tried to move his arms, gain some kind of purchase on the slope of rubble –

And screamed loud, long, and hoarsely at the pain that resulted. His arms weren't broken, but they felt impossibly _hot_, impossibly _heavy_. Still, the fact he had screamed was encouraging, made him feel alive, because even though there was so much death, and even though too much of it was his doing, he had reason to live, one very good reason, and he wanted so badly to see her.

His arms shook and protested with fresh waves of pain as he gritted his teeth and propped himself up on his elbows. His vision turned black again and he saw stars as the transition rendered him dizzy. In this position, he could better see his surroundings. The rubble pile he was laying on was considerable, stretching far to his right side and a little less so to the left, but to his relief it was not very high up. As he had suspected, he was not the only occupant – dozens of bodies lay scattered around in positions of varying grotesqueness, including an unfortunate asari curled backwards so unnaturally that her head tentacles nearly reached her feet.

Beyond the pile of rubble was a cracked and pitted street littered with deserted vehicles, both civilian and military. It was deathly quiet save for Shepard's own ragged breath and –

Was that birdsong?

Shepard listened, spellbound, to the melodic shrilling of a bird somewhere nearby. It felt like it had been years since he heard a bird sing, and that stood to reason, because birds did not sing in war zones, and Shepard had made such war zones his home for what seemed a lifetime. That there was a bird giving vocal testimony to its existence on the streets of London was a heartrending confirmation that it was over, it was finally over.

This only spurred the Commander to greater effort, and with a gleam in his eye, he mustered all of his strength and propelled himself from his elbows to an upright sitting position. Predictably, the resultant agony was enough to making him scream out, and this time he was almost unable to avoid unconsciousness, but there was more than birdsong driving him onward.

_Come back to me_

"Tali," Shepard breathed, his voice cracked and hoarse, an unconscious affirmation of why he was fighting death, and then he placed his hands on the downward-sloping pile of rubble before him, poised his legs – noting that his right ankle was almost definitely broken, judging by the particularly vicious wave of pain from that region, but it was hard to distinguish one pain center from another – and propelled himself onto his feet.

It was by no means a graceful transition. Shepard stumbled forward, white-hot pain and dizziness hitting him simultaneously, his right ankle (and it was definitely broken now, that much could be confirmed) twisting and cracking at the unwelcome load it was being forced to endure. It was only through sheer willpower that he managed to stay upright; he knew that if he fell back onto the ground, he would not rise again. It had taken every ounce of energy he had in his body, and then some, just to get up the first time.

He stood there for a full minute, body heaving with heavy and exhausted breaths, sweat dripping from his face, blood dripping from his hands and his legs and every part of his skin that was exposed. He looked down at himself, vaguely amused at his state of disrepair. If only Garrus could seem him now, appearing like some specter of death, his N7 armor chipped and broken so badly that one could not even infer how it might have looked at its prime, so caked with dried blood and grime that its original color was a mystery.

_Puts his facial scarring to shame, _Shepard thought with ironic pride. The fact that he was well enough for his dumb sense of humor to come through heartened him, and he looked up, exhaling heavily.

The pain he felt was still ungodly, enough that he should very well have been dead, or at the very least unconscious, but there was no time for either of those inconveniences now. He had no idea how long he'd been lying there in the remains of some ruined building, his only companions being the hapless dead of recent war, had no idea how long Tali had been left to speculate on his fate. The idea of her going through any kind of pain on his behalf filled him with rage at everything and nothing at all, because the only one he could blame was himself.

He stepped forward.

Then he took another step.

And then another.

With every step he died anew, his mind flooded with unwelcome memories of the Collector assault on the Normandy SR-1, how their powerful corrupted Prothean technology had torn the ship to shreds and left him spaced, oxygen venting through his suit and death pressing in with slow relentless certainty. That death had been frustrating in its unavoidability. He had been unable to fight it because there was no _way_ to fight it, but now, he had a chance to survive, and he would be damned if he let some Reaper-inflicted flesh wounds finish him off.

_Come back to me_

He trudged on, every step a monumental effort, a catalyst for a new wave of searing white hot agony in every limb, but all he saw was Tali'Zorah, Tali, the woman who proved to him that he was capable of more than soldiering, the woman who he _would _die for if he had to. The unpleasant memories of his death on the Normandy SR-1 faded and were replaced by memories of her, memories of embracing her, holding her close to him, feeling her hot breath on his ear as she spoke tenderly in to it with her suit off, the way his stomach felt light and he couldn't stop smiling when he was around her, and with those memories sustaining him, he could have walked a thousand times the distance despite his physical pain.

Commander Shepard's thoughts were still of Tali, only of Tali, when he finally trudged into a populated part of the ruined city, an impossible forty minutes later, were still of Tali as dumbstruck soldiers and civilians stopped their construction or their talking or whatever they were doing to gape at this grim and bloody man staggering through the streets, were still of Tali as a medical vehicle swept in, landed nearby, and deposited a small team of paramedics. They spoke to him, assured him that he would be okay, asked him to stay calm as they injected him with several needles and gently pushed him back onto a stretcher and then loaded him into the vehicle, but he did not hear them. If he had remained aware of his surroundings, he surely would have succumbed to the pain and fallen long ago, but there was only one thing on his mind, and it proved more effective than any painkillers ever would.

"Tali," he whispered as he was whisked away to fall under the mercy of fate and Earth's best remaining medical professionals, and then Commander Shepard saw black, only black.

* * *

Shala'Raan was distressed.

This, admittedly, was not an unusual frame of mind for the longtime quarian Admiral, who had once commanded a segment of the Migrant Fleet and played a sort of informal peacekeeper amongst the strongly opinionated Admirals who were her peers, a task much more daunting than it could ever impress.

Still, with the quarian people in a state of peace, real meaningful _peace_, for the first time in centuries, and with the threat of the Reapers apparently gone (although many still couldn't believe this to be true), Raan had hoped, apparently naively, that she might be able to relax. There was building and rebuilding to be done, a homeworld – Rannoch – to rediscover and reclaim, but these were happy tasks, she had reasoned, not worrisome ones.

What she had not anticipated were the complications. The fleet was crippled and largely decimated after the assault on Earth and the activation of the Crucible; while noncombatants had largely stayed behind on Rannoch, many had insisted on joining that final struggle, to die fighting instead of cowering on the sidelines and hoping for the best. A significant portion of the able-bodied quarian population had gone forth into battle, and barely half of them survived to tell the tale.

And then, of course, the damage to the mass relays had been discovered. The victory fleet, or the tattered remnants of it, consisting of a couple hundred ships of various configuration, human and turian and asari and even a few salarian cruisers thrown in for good measure, spent weeks after the Reapers were destroyed hovering around the Sol Relay, their best engineers struggling to fix the device. The damage had looked worse than it actually was, and two weeks of constant repair sufficed to get the relay up and running. Comm systems were still functional, and so the quarians in the victory fleet had been able to coordinate with those back in Rannoch; the relay in that system was fixed only a day later, and so the quarians returned home with wishes of good luck from the other races.

As if helping to supervise her people during those repairs had not been stressful enough, Raan had immediately been launched headlong into the political struggles brewing on the homeworld. The quarian people were in a state of transition, from a nomadic life among the stars, residing in their massive Liveships and a hodgepodge of other craft, to a more conventional terrestrial existence. This was what they had sought for centuries, but now that it was finally attained, the more tedious aspects of that change were becoming evident.

The governing system that worked for the Migrant Fleet, one of admirals directing fleet movement and defense, and civilian representatives serving in the Conclave, would not work for a quarian world, that much was obvious to all. The question was, what would the new system be? How would its leaders operate and function when there were yet to be any cities or towns on Rannoch, when everyone was busy racing to claim land of their own before it was all snatched up?

These were the debates that dominated Raan's world now, and she was unsure if they were any less dreadful than trying to keep millions of quarians alive in a fleet of creaky starships or sending her kin headlong into suicidal battles with ancient sentient death machines; but it was not why she was presently distressed.

She was distressed because Tali, for the umpteenth time in a handful of days, was missing.

The young quarian woman, with whom Raan shared a close bond – and that she considered their bond uniquely close was telling, because all quarians were like family out of necessity, sticking close together to survive in a frequently hostile galaxy, and so considered one and all their brothers and sisters – had arrived not long after the remnants of the victory fleet, in the recently repaired Normandy SR-2. The ship had gone down, its pilot, Joker, had told them, on a comfortably forested planet in the krogan DMZ, after the mass relays shut down. Fortunately for them, the krogan set to repairing their mass relay with aid from their turian allies, and so the Normandy was able to use it to reach the first system with a functional corresponding relay that they could find – which just happened to be the one in the Tikkun system, in which Rannoch resided.

Admirals Raan, Koris, Xen and Gerrel had all come out to greet the ship when it landed in their makeshift base of operations, which must have seemed the only reasonable place to land from orbit, as it hosted the most activity for any scanners, indicative of a population center. In the case of the resettling quarians, this base of operations consisted of a massive sprawl of tents and houses constructed of any materials that came to hand, from scrap metal to whatever wood could be found in the sparsely vegetated area. Hundreds of thousands of quarians lived there as they waited for direction from the admirals, but millions of others were already spread all over the planet, hoping to claim the best real estate before a proper government could regulate re-colonization.

The ship hadn't stuck around for long, and its entire crew was subdued during their short pleasantries. Tali in particular hardly spoke a word as she descended the ship's entry ramp and greeted the admirals, exchanging dispassionate hugs with each of them, and when she did speak, to tell them she was alright, it was with a low and, to Raan's perception – a perception honed from a lifetime of experience with the girl – sad voice. This suspicion was confirmed when Koris cheerfully asked where Commander Shepard was; Tali had looked wordlessly in his direction for a long moment, then to the ground, and then she had mumbled something about settling down before walking quickly off.

Raan's heart had gone out to the girl. She knew what that reaction meant. Commander Shepard was not on the Normandy, and he would not be present for any 'victory celebrations in the Commander's honor' as Koris so obliviously proposed while Tali faded from view. He was dead, presumably killed in the climactic fight against the Reapers, and Tali had lost more than a friend, much more.

The relationship had never been explicitly shared with Raan, or with any of the admirals, but Raan knew Tali better than the young woman suspected. Ever since the unfortunate treason hearing almost two years earlier, in which Tali was accused of knowingly putting the Migrant Fleet in danger by sending in active geth, it had been glaringly obvious to the older woman – whom Tali had once called 'Auntie Raan,' and sometimes still did, when she was in a good enough mood – that her young friend was smitten with Commander Shepard.

Raan had watched with wistful amusement as Tali followed him about, her eyes almost always glued adoringly to him, had listened to the way her voice softened, became more tender, somehow, when she spoke to him. The only way Tali could have made it any more obvious, Raan had thought to herself, was if she started humping his leg where he stood.

It made her happy, knowing that the girl had found someone to love, and only hoped that Shepard wouldn't break her heart, not when it was so obvious that her entire world revolved around him; and when, the next time she saw them together – shortly before the battle of Rannoch – it was obvious that they were bonded, she not only felt happy for Tali, she felt secure, knowing that such a capable and noble man was looking after her as more than a comrade and friend – as a lover.

And now the worst had come to pass – Commander Shepard was dead. Tali, whose heart had already endured so much pain during her life, from the passing of her mother as a child, and then the passing of her father as an adult, who had endured the shame of a public treason hearing just so admirals could advance their respective political views, was in the most pain of her life, and she didn't deserve such a thing.

Expressing these sympathies and providing a shoulder to cry on proved much harder over the next few days than Raan would have liked. Tali was elusive, undoubtedly consumed with her own thoughts, still trying to come to terms with events weeks after they had transpired. Everyone in the makeshift colony wanted to speak with her when they heard she'd returned, wanted to thank her for fighting so hard for them, and more dauntingly, to ask her to express their gratitude to Commander Shepard. Raan's colleagues ran out of patience for Tali's isolation in just over a day, and that was understandable enough; the quarians were a very social people, and expected every member of their society to actively contribute to shared betterment. Behavior like Tali's upon her return was almost unheard of and universally frowned upon. Raan held them at bay, pointing out that Shepard was presumed dead and she was taking it very hard.

For now, at least, it was working.

Still, Raan couldn't make excuses for Tali forever, and eventually, she would be confronted over her unhelpfulness, war hero status or not. The older woman wanted to avoid that eventuality, and so now she was seeking the girl out, hoping to finally have a heart-to-heart conversation with her.

It took more than a trek on foot to find Tali'Zorah. Raan searched all over the main colony's perimeter looking for her, going two miles out in all directions, but there was no trace of her. An epiphany hit her halfway back to the tents, and she quickly made her way to the nearest available land vehicle. These were rare presently, as the quarians had lived exclusively in space for a very long time, and hadn't wasted any resources maintaining a fleet of land vehicles, but they had managed to secure a few from the turians and humans before leaving the victory fleet.

Raan drove to the deserted geth base where Commander Shepard, with Tali's help, had released the synthetic race from Reaper control and then destroyed the Reaper destroyer that had resided there. She knew with sureness that she would find Tali near there, and she was right. The young quarian woman was sitting, knees drawn to her chest, on the cliff where she had looked out at the sunset with Shepard after their actions in the base. Raan felt her heart ache with fresh sympathy as she landed the vehicle nearby and stepped out, closing the door as gently as she could so as not to startle Tali, although she was sure she'd been heard hovering in.

And then she stood for a long moment next to the car, looking at Tali's silhouette framed against the sun which now, as it had been weeks ago, with Commander Shepard present, was setting. She tried to come up with a speech, comforting things to say to the girl, but soon abandoned the effort, and instead just walked up and sat down next to her.

* * *

Tali had indeed heard the vehicle approaching, and while she had briefly and irrationally considered slipping away, she remained sitting on the cliff's edge. For the last couple of days this had been her sanctuary, a blissfully silent and cherished place where she could listen to her own thoughts. Now that she'd been found, she supposed that was done with.

The couple of days she had managed to find solitude, at least, had provided some solace. Ever since the Normandy had left Earth – and Commander Shepard – behind, on Admiral Hackett's order, she had been unable to find any alone time. The Normandy crew, her friends, had constantly tried to be there for her even as they themselves were trying to deal with Shepard's apparent death. While she appreciated their comfort and their offers to talk, inwardly she had been screaming, constantly screaming. The man she loved, with whom she'd had so precious little time since they found each other – really found each other – was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it. It had hurt the first time Commander Shepard died, but this was different, because this time, they weren't just good friends, they were bound together by love, and the forceful severance of that bond hurt more than anything she'd ever experienced.

She'd watched, as though from a great distance, as her friends and crewmates on the Normandy reacted in their own ways to the news that the Citadel had been left a charred and smoking mess after the Crucible fired, knowing that Shepard had been on it. Their ways of coping were as varied as they themselves were.

Garrus, ever tough, ever eager to keep his friends' chins up, made encouraging jokes about how Shepard had died once, and it had only managed to piss him off, but Tali heard the sadness in his voice, and saw the dullness in his eyes, even as he confidently wagered that they would all see him again soon.

Liara was calm and collected and even cheerful while around the others, but Tali noticed that she spent inordinate amounts of time, even for her, alone in her quarters, and on one occasion, she had emerged with fresh tears running down her cheeks, walking very quickly to the women's restroom nearby.

Kaidan was the most open about his pain, and Tali had found some, if little, comfort in talking with him. He didn't pretend that he thought Shepard would be all right, instead making a point of accepting the apparent fact of his death and celebrating his life, "this time for real," he had said with a sad smile, referring to Shepard's death at the hand of the Collectors. While this was in many ways a better coping method than the others were exercising, he still spent a worrying amount of time at the Normandy's bar, drinking and staring out the viewport, into the stars.

James Vega, like Garrus, tried to keep everyone hopeful, pointing out more than once that only someone as 'Loco' as Commander Shepard could ever have beat the Reapers, and that someone as 'Loco' as he was surely would be remiss to let himself die a second time, but it was obvious that he was just as much trying to convince himself as he was the others. Still, he shared Kaidan's unwillingness to hide from the truth, and he often joined the human biotic in the bar, swapping stories about the Commander and speculating on the fate of the galaxy.

Tali's heart went out to Joker most of all, as the pilot had, like Kaidan, been with the Commander 'since the beginning,' and had lost more than just one good friend: he had lost a loved one, EDI, and so could sympathize with Tali in that regard. When the Normandy had abruptly come out of the mass relay's sway and crashed on a planet, Tali and a couple of the others had immediately gone to the cockpit, to find Joker cradling EDI's body in his arms; the rim of his hat had concealed his eyes, but the tears dripping to pool on the synthetic body had been testimony enough of his pain.

Almost everyone else on the crew, Engineer Adams, his assistants Kenneth and Gabby, Dr. Chakwas, Samantha Traynor, and the others, had all shared the general subdued sadness as well, but Javik, their prothean crew member, had stood apart. Where the others swapped consolations and sympathies, he strolled about the Normandy's decks with his regal chin held high, looking piercingly about with his four eyes and loudly, boldly declaring at every possible chance that Commander Shepard had done what needed to be done, had done better than any organic in the history of the galaxy, that they had all had the honor of serving under his command, and that in his time, statues would have been erected in his likeness, cities and planets would have been named after him, and his story would be added to the most cherished war histories. If he felt any sadness at all, Tali was unable to detect it.

Tali was an emotional and sympathetic girl, and she had been unable to justify pushing her friends aside during that time, no matter how badly she wanted to, no matter how loudly she was screaming out inside; and so landing on Rannoch, and finding some peace and quiet, had been a jarring transition. Just as the quarians had sought a planet of their own for so long, and were now being constantly surprised at all the obstacles that arose after achieving that goal, Tali had been unprepared for the pureness of her thoughts in the isolation she had sought for weeks.

For the entire first day on Rannoch, she had cried. Not nonstop – that was, of course, impossible. But she had sat there, on that cliff, knees drawn closely to her chest, or curled up on the ground, clutching the stone that Commander Shepard had given her when they landed on Rannoch to liberate the geth from Reaper control ("It's a start," she had said, her heart swelling with love at that simple indication of his understanding), spending long periods of silence where it felt that she wasn't thinking at all, was just trying to _understand_, and then the silence would always be broken by a simple sob which collapsed her barriers and left her crying, body quaking with emotion, feeling more alone that at any other point of her life, before more periods of silence in which she tried to comprehend the incomprehensible. At times she remembered Shepard so vividly that she felt she could turn to her side and see him sitting there, face lit warmly by the setting sun, his eyes twinkling and a smile on his face as he looked at her and into her and made her feel naked and free despite the suit she was forced to wear.

_I want more time_

It was unfair, so monstrously unfair, that she had met Shepard so late, that they had realized their love for each other so late, that at every turn the universe had seemed to conspire against their being together, first in Shepard's death by the Collectors, and then by the petty warmongering of her people that left her scrounging for geth parts while Shepard gathered his team, and then, after they finally sealed their commitment to each other with passionate lovemaking hours before a suicide mission (and that was Tali's most cherished memory, how he had looked into her eyes and told her _it was always you_ and how for once in her life she hadn't felt inadequate and awkward but beautiful and loved, and how only he ever made her feel that way), the conflict with the Reapers had shaken them out of their new and fragile (but it had seemed so invincible at the time, like they could have taken on the entire Reaper fleet and won) togetherness and left him in house arrest on Earth while she, once again, was consumed by the squabbling and politics of the quarians. And then, finally, they had come back together, and held each other, and gave each other meaning, only for circumstances to drive them apart again – this time, for good.

What was she supposed to do now?

Her people would no doubt expect her to take up a position of leadership in whatever government rose from the ashes of Rannoch. They would expect her to spend the rest of her life dedicated to the cause of the quarians throughout the galaxy, working until her dying breath for the good of her multimillion-member 'family.' Once, this would have appealed to her, even made her happy; she, like every quarian child, had been raised to think of herself as secondary in importance to the good of the Fleet. Someday, perhaps, this would appeal to her again.

But right now, she had this – this broken heart, a feeling that nothing could ever give her fulfillment without the strong arms of her beloved wrapped around her, now that they would never embrace her again, that she would never feel her heartbeat quicken and her stomach flip with excitement and nervousness the way they had when Shepard would reach up, caress her bare cheeks, and lock his lips with hers.

All of this went through her mind as she looked at Shala'Raan, who had been like a mother to her after her real mother had died, and said, "Nice view, isn't it?"

Raan nodded, her masked face turned speculatively out to the setting sun. Before them was a vast expanse of desert, but it was beautiful in its rich hue, and the vegetation which popped up here and there, as well as the trickling body of water that ran off into the horizon, lent the scene a soothing vibrance.

"Yes," she agreed at length.

They were silent for a long moment. Finally Tali released a weak chuckle and looked ruefully down at her knees. "Koris and the others sent you out here, didn't they?"

Raan turned to look at her, feeling a little hurt in spite of herself at the implication that she would not come out to check on the girl on her own prerogative. "No, Tali."

Tali looked up and met her gaze, and cocked her head a little, but said nothing.

"The admirals were admittedly…concerned about you," Raan explained, eliciting a skeptical snort from the younger quarian. "But I told them to give you some time, child. You've had…" she let her voice trail off, suddenly unsure how to proceed. "You've had a rough couple of weeks."

Tali immediately returned her gaze to her knees, feeling a tumult of emotion. A childish corner of her mind was ready to lash out at Raan, insist that she had no idea what Tali was going through and could only pretend to understand, but she felt shame, too. Here Raan was, checking on her, not because she was asked to, but because she cared about Tali. With her own heart in a fragile state, it was all to easy to forget that other people had feelings, too. What must her friends in the colony think of her, running off to dwell selfishly on her own thoughts while they struggled to build a home?

"Tali, I…" Raan started, then trailed off again, obviously struggling to find the right words. Again, she considered a million different speeches she could make, a million different platitudes that might take Tali's mind off of things, but finally, she chose to speak frankly and from her heart. "I'm so sorry, child."

The sheer simplicity and earnestness and love in Raan's words took Tali completely off guard. Her collectedness, brief and manufactured as it had been, collapsed, and the purple world she saw through her mask blurred with tears.

"I miss him, Auntie Raan," she said, her voice thick and wavering, and then she began to cry in great, mighty sobs, more fiercely and purely than she had in the entire time she'd been on Rannoch, and Shala'Raan, cooing with empathetic sadness of her own, moved in and wrapped her in an embrace. Tali willingly reciprocated, resting her head against Raan's chest, shoulders heaving, body shaking.

"Oh my poor Tali," Raan said, sadness weighing heavily on her heart. Watching the girl go through such pain was worse, she was sure, than if she went through it herself, and she wished that she could reach through the veil between life and death and bring Shepard back, if only it would stop the tears; and she wanted to say more – there were so many things she should say – but she could not muster the words, and so they just sat like that for a long time, as the sun descended ever further beyond the horizon.

After a time Tali's sobs subsided, as did the trembling and heaving of her body, and she lay weakly in Raan's comforting embrace. She felt like she could sleep for years, and it occurred to her she had been so busy mourning Shepard that she hadn't been sleeping much.

"I should have been with him," she whispered, feeling the tears drying on her cheeks.

"That's not true, Tali."

"Yes it is," Tali said more fiercely than she had intended. "I was there with him, and I wanted to end it with him, but I got – I got hurt, and – "

Raan smiled sadly beneath her mask, anticipating the rest of the story. "And he told you to get to safety."

Tali was silent. Raan took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her upright, turning her so that they were face to face.

"He loved you, Tali," she said in a low voice aching with empathy. At this, Tali tried to look away, to protest the words that she knew were coming, but Raan felt that she needed to hear them; she lifted one hand and, still gently, pushed her face back to the front. "He wanted you to live, for yourself and for him. He died so that trillions of beings could live, so that _you _could _live, _Tali!"

Tali stared at her, her eyes blurring again, mouth working as she considered and rejected a million different responses. "It's…it's not _fair, _Auntie Raan," she said weakly at last, looking down at the ground between them, and this time, Raan didn't interfere. "We didn't have enough _time. _I…" she held up a rock that Raan hadn't realized she was holding and they both gazed down at it. "I wanted to be with him. I thought…I thought I was going to _be_ with him." And then she looked back up, and though her purple visor concealed her eyes, Raan could feel the passion behind them. "I would have gone anywhere, done _anything, _ to be with him."

"Oh, I know, child," Raan said, and pulled her in for another embrace. "And he felt the same way, don't you see?" she pushed Tali back to arm's length. "What did he say to you? What was the _last thing _he said to you?"

Tali's efforts to contain another bout of crying failed, and she tossed her head to one side as she stifled a sob. "He said," she began, valiantly trying to keep her voice even and failing miserably, "…he told me to come back to Rannoch and…build a home." Her voice softened at the end as she remembered the way he'd said it, his eyes looking into hers, piercing hers.

"He's looking down at you now, Tali," Raan said softly, and then added in a gently teasing voice, "and he's wondering why you're wallowing around out here instead of building a home he would be proud of."

This was apparently the right thing to say. Tali released a strange laugh-hiccup and lovingly caressed the stone Shepard had given her. She remembered how he, while she despaired over her father's death, had pulled her into his embrace, giving her the strength she needed to finish their mission. "Yeah," she whispered. "You're probably right."

Raan stood and looked down at Tali. How quickly the girl had turned into a young woman, and this heartbreak, once healed, would see her turn into an even stronger person than she'd already become. Shepard, she was sure, would have been pleased that his death could have such an end result. Tali looked back up at her, and they simply gazed at each other for a long moment, each lost in their own thoughts about the other.

Tali, in turn, felt much better; she knew the wound in her heart would never heal, but was that so bad? She never wanted to forget Commander Shepard, never wanted to forget how impossibly powerful her love for him had been, and that very wound in her heart would always remind her. And she knew, as Raan had said, that he would never have wanted her to live like this, stuck in the past, despairing over what could have been.

He told her to build a home on Rannoch. She would build the best damn house on the planet, and she would think of him the entire time – not with despair, but with fondness and joy that she had been fortunate enough to know him, to love him, and to know his love.

Shala'Raan offered a hand.

Tali'Zorah took it.

**A/N: **This is the first of 9 or 10 chapters planned. I'll try to deliver them all without too big a gap between each one. I don't have the best history with finishing stories to completion, but for once I actually outlined the damn thing before starting, so I'm determined to go all the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **A big thanks to all who read and reviewed, and a particular thank-you to 'Vocarin' - it is exactly that kind of thorough review, whether good or bad, that makes posting fanfiction so rewarding.

Despite Shala'Raan's fears to the contrary, Tali took the their heart-to-heart talk seriously, and the following morning she was not missing, but instead turned up at the temporary Office of Homeworld Reclamation earlier than any of her fellow admirals, who were, at least for now, in charge of all aspects of quarian governance. As was typical of their people, they pretended that their displeasure with her behavior had never existed, considering her presence testimony to her willingness to rectify the problem. They knew better than to mention any potentially touchy subjects that might cause a relapse – namely, Commander Shepard, or her crew on the Normandy in general – and instead focused on the issues of the present.

"It's good that you're here, Tali," admiral Han'Gerrel told her as he strode into the planning center, along with Zaal'Koris, Daro'Xen, and Shala'Raan (who smiled in relief at the sight of her young friend, her doubts erased – she was indeed a strong woman). "We have more problems than we know how to handle right now, and this piece of scrap metal isn't exactly helping the situation."

He was referring to the Office of Homeworld Reclamation that they were meeting in, and no one in attendance could reasonably disagree with his assessment. The Office was just a repurposed civilian shuttle sitting near the center of the several hundred thousand-strong main colony; about as large as a single-story house, and with only two rooms inside which could logically be used as meeting places – the crew quarters and navigation area – it was never meant for such a capacity. The admirals had originally discussed landing one of the more luxurious freighters, but the civilian shuttle was the only craft that had managed to land before the tenacious quarian settlers crowded the space too much for any others.

Out of the two habitable areas of the small ship, the navigation center had become the unofficial conference room. Similar to the Normandy SR-2's combat information center, it had a raised metal dais in the center of the circular space, which pulled up a holographic map of the galaxy when activated. All around the perimeter were various haptic interface computers whose orange glow provided some much-needed light, as the one overhead was on the tail-end of its lifespan – not uncommon on the less vital ships of the retired Migrant Fleet.

Tali stood on one side of the navigational dais while the other four took up positions on the side opposite. She looked at them each in turn and reflected on her understandings of them. The frequently ruthless Daro'Xen was her least favorite, if she had to pick – her intellect had been vital to the survival of the Migrant Fleet, and she certainly knew how to get things done, but the manner in which she performed her duties was what worried Tali, the way she had recently been willing to sacrifice the lives of their fellow quarians if it meant obtaining some kind of edge over the geth. Tali still remembered how, not long after the fleet destroyed a geth dreadnought with significant aid from Commander Shepard and, notably, the geth platform named Legion, she had argued with Xen over the Normandy's comms; the more seasoned admiral wanted to abandon all hope of retrieving some lifepods in order to divert resources to fetching some geth technology. The idea that an edge in war took precedence over quarian lives seemed _wrong _to Tali, and so she could never truly be comfortable with anyone harboring such an idea.

She had once considered Han'Gerrel, the admiral who greeted her upon arrival, a friend and likeminded ally, but the war against the geth put a strain on that perspective. Where Tali argued against an offensive, especially with the Reaper threat looming, and abhorred the idea of turning Liveships into dreadnoughts by slapping on some heavy cannons – an idea advocated primarily by Gerrel – he had stridently called for action, trumpeting up the cause of war with apocalyptic predictions that if the quarians didn't strike now, they would never have another opportunity to regain the homeworld. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, he had ordered the fleet to fire on the geth dreadnought after Shepard, Tali and Legion had rendered it defenseless from the inside, while they were _still on board_, very nearly killing them. Tali understood his desperation, understood that all of her people had been desperate, were fed up with aimlessly wandering the cosmos, exiled from their own home, but she could not and would not try to understand extremism.

The other two admirals inspired considerably less mixed feelings in her. Shala'Raan, of course, was a very dear friend and practically family. The fact that the older woman had gone out of her way and driven Ancestors knew how many units to check on her at the deserted geth base still filled Tali with warm gratitude and love. Zaal'Koris, too, had her respect and even friendship. He was frequently pompous and had a knack for grating on people's nerves with his endless idealistic tirades, but he was a constant advocate for peace and had the quarians' best interests at heart, and was ultimately the only admiral who showed any real potential as a leader for the future, in Tali's opinion. Raan was a good and kind woman, but lacked the resolve and grit, let alone the desire, to lead her people in to their new destiny; Gerrel had plenty of resolve and grit, in fact, he had _too _much, and his leadership qualities were best left for times of war; and Xen would doubtless do what she did best, get results, but Tali feared what the price of those results would be with such a pitiless woman at the helm.

She was somehow unsurprised to see that Xen and Koris were arguing before the meeting had officially even begun. Koris, as usual, had puffed himself up to full blowhard mode, chest thrust outward as though to stave off his enemies, hands gesticulating grandly to accentuate his words, while Xen simply stood, arms crossed, the very picture of a woman who couldn't quite believe what her ears – or, in her case, her auditory emulators – were being subjected to.

"Establishing _any _kind of government without the full input of all of our people would be a _travesty_," Koris was saying, his refined accent dripping with passion. "We are at the precipice of a new beginning, Xen, and the manner in which we proceed will create effects that will be felt for ce – "

"And how do you propose we do it, hmm?" Xen interrupted, and Koris stopped without complaint; he was accustomed to getting interrupted, as it was the only way for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Letting him pontificate unimpeded ran the risk of dying of old age before he finished. "We're already spread to the four corners of Rannoch. We've got people settling on every continent without any kind of regulatory force – I wouldn't be surprised if there are fights going on over land disputes – and our ground forces are so depleted after the fight against the Reapers that it would be _impossible _to get to all of them. There's simply no way around it, Zaal – the people of _this_ colony will have to serve as an electorate for our first planetary government."

Koris huffed in a way that might have made Tali laugh if she wasn't afraid of the repercussions. She'd been scolded by the admiral formerly known as vas Qwib-Qwib once before, and it was not an experience she was eager to relive. "There are hardly four hundred thousand people in this shanty town you call a _colony_! Allowing such a small percentage of the population to determine the leaders of one and all would be – would be – "

"I believe you called it a 'travesty,' Zaal," Gerrel piped in wearily, his masked face resting exasperatedly in one palm.

The sarcasm of this contribution was not lost on the beleaguered Koris, and he glared in Gerrel's direction. Tali had not believed it possible, but he managed to puff himself up even more, and she speculated idly that if he continued he might burst. "It's obvious my respect for the institution of democracy is not shared with present company. Considering our history, I am unable to say that I'm surprised." Raan began to intercede with a soothing placatory remark, but Koris simply held up a hand to show that he wasn't finished. "I don't wish to be unreasonable. All I ask is that we _try _to get as many voices heard as possible. The decision of leadership is a significant one, and we should not take it lightly."

Everyone waited with bated breath, wondering if he was really done; his chest deflated to something resembling normalcy, and everyone sighed with relief, inwardly, with the exception of the undiplomatic Gerrel, who did it out loud, eliciting another glare from Koris.

"Tali," Raan said brightly, happy for the opportunity to change the subject, and everyone turned to look in the young quarian's direction. Tali was reminded of her treason hearing, with the eyes of her elders boring into her, but this time, rather than standing as the accused, she was on equal footing, as an admiral herself. "I'm sure you've noticed by now that there's a lot to be done. Did you have any idea where you'd like to get started?"

And Tali had, of course, given some thought to that matter before the other admirals had shown up, had felt better than she had for a long time just by having something to occupy her thoughts other than missing Shepard, desperately wanting Shepard back, but she felt suddenly unsure. She looked down at her hands, clutching the rims of the room's central dais, feeling very strongly that if she replied, if she committed herself to helping to build a future, she would be leaving behind the past and leaving it behind for good.

She would be saying goodbye to Shepard for good.

_Build a home_

No, she realized. Raan had been right. Shepard didn't die so that she could spend the rest of the life that he fought to give her dwelling on what could have been – but that didn't make her feel like any less of a traitor, didn't make her heart ache any less, as she looked up at her colleagues, her colleagues who were somehow living when her beloved was not, and gave her answer.

* * *

Her answer had been that she wanted to help manage the food supplies, keep them flowing to the families of the colony, and so Tali, after enduring several more meandering debates between Koris and his arch nemeses Xen and Gerrel, made her way outside and began the trek to the large clearing, beyond the furthermost tents and huts, where ships from the fleet dropped by twice a day with fresh supplies.

It was, she had to admit, a beautiful day. It still hadn't quite sunk in that this was _Rannoch_, the homeworld, home of the Ancestors, where the quarians began, and she was walking on its soil. A part of her mind was convinced that it was all too good to be true, that at any moment some unknown menace would swoop in and chase them back into space, to live another three centuries as scorned nomads.

Tali paused in her journey and turned her face to the sky above, taking in the shapes of the clouds and the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. She was briefly overwhelmed with a feeling of pure contentment, which did not last long, as she remembered that she was only getting half of the picture, that her blasted suit prevented her from feeling the breeze which no doubt filled the air, prevented her from reaching down and feeling the grass that popped up here and there. It felt like ages since she'd been able to take her suit off –

Her marred contentment turned quickly into alarmingly vivid memories of being with Shepard, as it was with him that she had last been outside of the prison she wore as clothing, and Tali realized that she was not as healed as she would have liked, that despite her rational mind telling her that it was good to remember, and that Shepard would, indeed, have wanted her to move on with her life, she was still hurting.

"Tali, there you are."

It was as though Shala'Raan had telepathically picked up on the girl's conflicted thoughts, and she was now walking up from behind, gently pushing her way through the dozens of quarians milling about in their general vicinity, all of whom were moving from one ramshackle tent or hut to the other, chatting conversationally and lending aid where possible. Tali watched her approach until they stood an arm's length apart, and then resumed her own trek to the food dropoff, with Raan in tow.

"That was an…interesting meeting," Tali remarked as they walked.

"It may seem like so much hot air, but everything we discussed today _needed _to be discussed," Raan replied. "The abstract issues of the now will become the pressing issues of tomorrow. Better to deal with it early on."

Tali looked at her skeptically. "The amount of houses allowed to be built on beachfront property will be a pressing issue of tomorrow?" she asked, referring to one of the several topics debated amongst the admirals, one that was given an absurd length of time given its relative urgency.

"You know what I mean," Raan said good-naturedly. "Tali, it was good to see you there."

Tali was silent for a moment. "I feel better. Not completely, but better. Thanks, Auntie Raan. I – " she paused. " – I'm glad you found me yesterday."

"You must have known you wouldn't be able to avoid me for long," Raan teased, then added, more seriously, "I care about you, child. I could feel your heartbreak like it was my own. We both needed to have that chat."

And then she grunted in surprise, because Tali turned and enveloped her in a tight hug, and that grunt turned into a clearing of her throat as she felt it choking up with an emotion which was as abrupt as the hug which inspired it. Tali released her after a moment, took one of her hands, and squeezed it.

"Thanks," she said again, and then kept walking.

Collecting herself, Raan jogged forward a bit to catch up. "About that house you mentioned…"

"The cliff," Tali said, replying before the question was even fully formed, knowing that Raan was going to ask where she planned to build her home, the one Shepard wanted her to have.

"The cliff?" Raan echoed, trying to keep the skepticism she felt out of her tone. "The one from yesterday?"

"Yes."

A fresh pang of sympathy hit the older quarian's heart. She knew why, of course, that Tali had chosen the cliff, and it wasn't for the spectacular view of the sunset that it afforded; Raan wondered if it would be advisable, if it would be healthy, for her to live in such an emotionally charged spot, where she would never truly be able to put the past aside. She opened her mouth, ready to voice these concerns as diplomatically as possible, but Tali spoke before she could.

"I know," the girl said softly. "It seems a little weird. Like if I put my home there, I won't just be living in the past on the inside, but in reality, too." She turned to look at Raan. "But it's what I want, Auntie. Every part of me tells me that it's the right place. Maybe if I live there, I'll never really heal, but…" she shrugged helplessly. "Maybe that's what I want."

And while Raan was still unsure if she understood, was still unsure if it was the right thing for Tali to do, she knew then that she would go along with it anyway, would help in whatever way she could, because it was what Tali wanted, and that was good enough for her. "I think it will make a beautiful home," she said.

Tali beamed at her.

* * *

To their shared horror, the pair ran into Admiral Zaal'Koris as they neared the perimeter of the colony. He was strutting about with a small band of women, all of them holding various recording tools, all of them intercepting any nearby settlers and accosting them for input on Ancestors knew what.

An explanation, predictably, was shortly forthcoming, whether they wanted it or not, as Koris spotted them and made a ruthless beeline for them, rendering any hope of escape futile.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" He cried as he reached them, making a great show of nodding at every quarian in visual range, whether they were aware of his existence or not, and then he stood before them, looking theatrically up at the sky. "In such calm beauty, it is easy to forgot how many souls were lost in order for us to be standing here now."

He bowed his head in a solemn show of respect for the dead he spoke of; Tali and Raan glanced at each other sidelong, and both struggled to contain a fit of giggles. During those times where the admiral's pompousness crossed the thin line into absurdity, it was difficult to take him seriously. What he said, as usual, rang true, but the method in which he communicated it was the stuff of bad comedy vids.

Apparently satisfied with his display of social conscience, Koris looked up at them, completely oblivious to their amused reaction. "You might have noticed my volunteers over there," he said, gesturing vaguely behind him, to where his band of women, their purpose now revealed, were still forging a trail through the crowd, recording the responses of anyone who stopped to talk to them with an officiousness that no doubt made him proud. "We're taking a census of every man and woman in this colony of voting age. We might not be able to get the vote of every quarian on Rannoch, but we will _certainly _see to it that we get the vote of everyone here." He sniffed in a long-suffering sort of way. "That's the least we can do."

There was a pause, during which he puffed himself out almost unconsciously, apparently preparing for the inevitable detractors to assail his position, but Raan and Tali simply nodded agreeably, and in truth, they _did _agree with him.

"I'm glad you're handling this, Zaal," Raan said by way of letting him know that they approved. "I can't think of anyone who would take better care of quarian democracy."

Tali found herself stifling another giggle, as Koris - taken aback at the fact that not only were they not arguing with him, they were actually _encouraging _him, a turn of events that he was clearly unaccustomed to, at least outside his usual group of supporters - deflated like a popped balloon. "_Thank _you, Raan," he said warmly. "I will do my best." He turned to Tali. "I didn't get a chance to say so earlier, but it was a pleasure to see you at the conference."

"Thank you, Admiral," Tali said courteously, bowing her head slightly.

Koris nodded back. Raan and Tali, convinced that their rendezvous with Koris was ended, made to resume their walking, but as they started to move away, he piped up again. "Headed to the food drop-offs, then?"

Tali looked back at him. "Yes."

"If you'll allow it, I'll join you," he said. "I need to survey the workers over there, and I can't think of better company for the walk."

And so Admiral Zaal'Korris joined their group, and the three of them set out to cover the rest of the distance to the food drop-offs.

* * *

Tali realized, an hour after they arrived at their destination, that food distribution duty might not have been the best choice. As an admiral and thus one of the temporary leaders on the planet, she was given the task not of helping to unload the supplies themselves, but instead to simply authorize all payloads being dropped off, a tedious task consisting of scanning every package with her omnitool as they were carried down the supply freighter's cargo bay ramp, and slightly more palatably, to give appropriate directions to the people who brought the food into the colony, making sure that no area was left unfed.

All of this left her far too much time to think.

At first, every time her thoughts inevitably drifted to Commander Shepard, she quickly forced them out before they could begin, determined to move on as Raan had urged and he no doubt would have wanted. This failed every time, and as she stood there, holding her omnitool up for every package moving past it, she wanted nothing more than to run away, find somewhere isolated, and vent out her frustration, scream long and loud, or maybe just to cry.

And then she realized that her frustration came not from the persistence of the memories, her mind's apparent refusal to forget, but from the way she was trying to avoid them, trying to censor them, and she felt ashamed. Just the day before she had had the good sense to realize that she didn't have to forget Shepard to move on, that true happiness would come from living the rest of her life with him forever in her heart and mind, but that was easier said than done. For now at least, the thought of him still brought too much agony; the wounds on her heart were still too fresh, and so she resigned herself to her turmoil, standing slackly by the cargo ship's ramp, trying to find again the hope that Raan had given her, wishing she had something more to occupy her mind.

She settled on trying to focus her attention on the news terminal nearby, one of only two in the entire increasingly large colony – the other was set up near the Office of Homeworld Reclamation, or as Han'Gerrel more aptly described it, the piece of scrap metal. The quarians stationed in the food drop-off zone worked in shifts, and so the ones currently taking a break were lounging around the nearly two-meter high black tower, listening to the carefully neutral voice of the female reporter bringing in news from across the galaxy. While she listened, Tali noted the positions of the two admirals who had accompanied her; Raan was chatting with the pilot of the cargo ship near several stacks of the supply boxes not far away, and Koris was buzzing around the workers piling up those stacks, haranguing them with questions no doubt regarding his colony census.

The news coming from the terminal was interesting to Tali, managing to create a welcome distraction from her own thoughts, and she mused that she was almost as afraid of the contents of her own mind as she had been of the Reapers. Wearily she wondered when that would end, when thinking of him, and there was no need to specify which 'him' she was thinking of, because there was only one man in her world even if he was dead, would cease to bring pain.

The salarians, the voice on the news terminal declared, had fixed the mass relay in their home system, and were using it to transport needed scientists and engineers to the Citadel, which was still hovering over Earth and in the process of repair; Primarch Victus of the Turian Hierarchy and Urdnot Wrex of the fledgling Krogan Union had declared a long-term military alliance between their peoples, and Tali found herself smiling throughout that report, feeling happy for Wrex and his ilk; the Human Systems Alliance was bringing hundreds of ships and vital supplies to Khar'shan, home of the batarians, which had been almost irreversibly devastated by the Reaper invasion, the first world to be hit, a surprising olive branch from the humans, whom had been at odds with the batarians ever since coming on to the galactic scene decades earlier; the voice droned on, reciting story after story, almost all of them positive indicators of peace and recovery for the galaxy.

And then she heard it, a name that she hadn't heard spoken out loud in days, and one that she had become strangely convinced that she might never hear again, and the fact that she was, now, made her stiffen, head jerking up and whipping in the direction of the news terminal, not quite sure if she'd really heard it or her mind was playing tricks on her.

"…a man identified by human medical workers as Commander Shepard, the first human Specter and alleged broker of peace between the turians and krogan, as well as one of only two people to board the Citadel and activate the Crucible during the fight against the Reapers, has been taken into intensive care in a hospital on his homeworld of Earth. Eyewitnesses say that when he was found, he quote, 'looked like death,' and are amazed that he is alive."

The voice on the terminal transitioned into a man's describing that very sight, an eyewitness testimony, but Tali's world had gone silent as though she had been dipped under water, and for a moment all she heard was the beating of her heart, felt a warmth not of happiness but of some emotion she couldn't possibly hope to identify because of its complexity, her stomach flipping and churning and her mind going completely blank.

_Alive?_

And then her body moved, inexorably and irresistibly, almost on autopilot, to where she knew without a doubt, knew more purely than she had ever known anything, that she had to go.

* * *

Shala'Raan saw this, had heard the report from the news terminal, was just as stunned by the words that were spoken as Tali no doubt was, and her conversation with the cargo freighter's pilot, one revolving around the state of the quarian fleet and the intricacies of supply acquisition in a shattered galaxy, was completely forgotten as her empathetic link with the girl gave her an idea of what she must now be feeling, how her mind must now be clouded and tumultuous and unclear. She excused herself as politely as she could, given the circumstances, which was not very politely at all and came out as something almost unintelligible to the pilot, and avoided the temptation to break out into a sprint to catch up with Tali, who was walking with great purposeful strides toward – what, exactly?

"Tali!" she called out, but if the girl heard her, she gave no indication, and simply kept walking, moving towards the tents and huts of the colony, her powerful youthful legs carrying her with an urgent speed, maybe even a frantic speed, and it seemed reasonable to assume that she might well start running. Raan, determined to get to her, increased her own pace, and just as Tali had been oblivious to her call, she herself was oblivious as hapless Zaal'Koris called out to her and followed at a light jog, apparently convinced that since they had all gone into the drop-off zone together, it was only appropriate that they all leave it together, too.

Finally Raan caught up to Tali, with the furthermost tent of the colony on that side only feet away, and grabbed her arm to slow her down. She was met with a strange sound of irritation from Tali, who shook her hand off, but to Raan's relief, stopped walking.

"Where…" she panted, "…are you going?"

"I have to go," Tali replied vaguely, distractedly, one foot tapping against the ground in a display of impatience.

Raan, catching her breath, placed her hand on Tali's shoulder. This time it was not shaken off, but the young quarian did stiffen perceptibly, clearly not in any mood for another chat. "I heard the news, too, Tali, but – "

"Then why are we standing here?" Tali snapped, voice rising, feeling ashamed of herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but not caring, not now, not while he might be out there, not while there was a chance that he was out there and within her reach and not beyond it, not forever beyond it.

And Raan was hurt by the lashing out, even as she sympathized with it, and she paused before she spoke, not just because of that, but because she knew that what she had to say might sound cold, might sound at odds with her encouragements the day before, and because she knew that it would ultimately go unheeded, but she said it anyway. "I know how you must be feeling right now, but we mustn't – we mustn't _overreact, _child – you are an admiral, you are needed here, and we don't even know if the reports are accurate – "

Tali suddenly stepped forward, pressing in until her visor was practically touching Raan's, fists clenched, and when she spoke, her voice was quavering with emotion, all of the emotions that were roiling about inside of her at that moment. "I don't give a _damn _if the reports are accurate," she said. "If there's even a _chance _– if there's even a _remote _possibility that he's alive – I have to _be there_, and if you want to stop me, you will have to _kill me_."

The tension in the air, palpable and thick enough that it could have been cut with a knife, dissipated as Raan took both of Tali's trembling, clenched fists into her hands and pushed her visor forward the miniscule distance that existed between them, so that they were touching, eyes connected. She had felt the impossibly powerful conviction in the girl's voice, knew that her love and concern was the most genuine thing in her world, and all of her societally conditioned impulses, about the wrongness of shirking responsibility or running from duty, seemed insignificant in comparison. "Okay, child," she said quietly. "Go. Go to him. I won't stop you."

Tali's hands had already relaxed as Raan grasped them, and now the rest of her body followed suit. "Thank you, Auntie Raan," she said, and then moved to extricate herself and continue, but Raan tightened her grip around her hands, stopping her.

"But I'm coming with you," the older quarian said.

Tali stared at her for a time, her lips slowly turning into a smile, gratitude flooding her that this woman, this loving and caring woman, was a part of her life, and understood her so well. "Okay," she said simply, and they both began to walk when suddenly they became aware of loud huffing and wheezing coming up from behind them. They turned to see Zaal'Koris jogging up to them, ever dogged, refusing to be left behind.

"What…in the name…of the _Ancestors_…is the _rush_?" the admiral wheezed, stopping before them and bending over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Tali felt positively antsy now, unable to think of much other than Shepard lying hurt and alone in some cold hospital, and the curtness of her reply reflected that. "Shepard's alive. I'm going to Earth." To her relief, Raan did not point out, as she had earlier, that the reports might not be true.

"Sp…" Koris coughed, and then cleared his throat very loudly and dramatically, straightening up. "Splendid! Delighted to hear it. But, erm, how exactly do you plan to _get _there? As I'm sure you're aware, all the ships of the fleet are engaged in colonization and supply concerns - "

"Not all of them, admiral," Tali said cryptically, and the surety in her voice seemed to put a damper on any willingness Koris might have had to argue.

"I see," he said. He turned to Raan. "Well, shall I tell the others that you'll fill in for her duties? Or shall I take them on myself?" This last possibility was added as an eager afterthought, Koris no doubt imagining the beauty of a life where he could shoulder the burdens of two admirals instead of one, even if only for a while.

"I'm going with Tali," Raan told him simply, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder for emphasis. "So you can take them on, if you'd like."

"Oh," said Koris, and the other two could practically see smoke rising from his helmet as his mind raced, processing this new information. "Well then, I'll tag along, as well."

Tali was briefly and horrifyingly reminded of a girl from her childhood that had followed her everywhere like some lost and dejected animal, which had rapidly gone from being amusing to being obnoxious. "That's…sweet of you, but you really don't have to – "

Her words were spoken with perfect cordiality, but Koris apparently decided to interpret them as an assault on his personal honor, perhaps because he had had precious little excuse to do so with anyone else that day, and he puffed himself out, drawing himself to his full height, which was strikingly average and did not add any particular heft to his argument. _Here we go_, Tali thought.

"Commander Shepard is a friend and ally of the quarian people," Koris rambled. "We owe our peace, and the fact that we have a _home_, largely to him, not to mention the fact that I consider him a friend on a more personal level, and I would be _remiss_ – "

"_Alright, _Koris!" Tali cut him off, voice raised to be heard, as his own had been rising with every word, as though he were making a speech to a vast crowd and not two bemused colleagues. "You can come, let's just – let's just _go._"

Koris, victory achieved, deflated, and for the second time that day, the trio moved in concert towards their destination.

* * *

Only Tali knew where they were headed, and so both Raan and Koris were understandably baffled when she stopped in front of the Office of Homeworld Reclamation and began to ascend the entry ramp.

"Did you – did you forget something in there, Tali?" Raan called after her, guessing at her intentions.

There was no reply. Raan and Koris exchanged curious looks and followed her up, only to find her bustling about from the engine room and down the hallway, through the navigational center that served as a conference room, and into the cockpit, and then back again, moving with a purpose that struck Raan as somehow foreboding.

"Perhaps she forgot several things," Koris mused lightly as Tali brushed between them, stepped into the engine room, and began tinkering with the machinery.

Raan followed her in and placed a hand gently on her back to gain her attention. "Tali, what are you doing? Shouldn't we be finding a ship?"

"You're standing in it," Tali said, her voice burning with confidence, clearly and completely sure of what she was doing, and Raan realized she was acting purely on some kind of instinct, cutting corners and taking shortcuts wherever necessary if it meant getting to Earth, getting to Shepard, faster.

Koris apparently heard this, and he burst into the room in typical theatrical fashion. "Are you _mad_?"

"Love makes you do crazy things," Tali replied easily, and Raan realized with a sinking feeling that this was not just Tali being cute, she was one hundred percent serious, and that love, in fact, was making her do a very crazy thing.

"Gerrel was not exaggerating when he called this a piece of scrap metal," she said urgently, stepping in front of the girl as she moved to leave the engine room in her dogmatic efforts to prepare the ship for travel. "A couple of scientists lived in this ship when it was part of the Migrant Fleet, and were usually _towed _around by one of the bigger ships because the drive is faulty. I understand that you're in a hurry, but – "

"Auntie Raan?" Tali said softly, gently, cutting her off and placing a hand on the side of the older woman's helmet, and Raan relaxed, sensing that she'd got through to her. She only realized how horribly wrong that assessment was when the reply continued: "Strap in."

"Ancestors help us," Koris said weakly, seeing that there was no way to convince Tali otherwise, but any regret that he had for choosing to tag along was nullified by his personal sense of duty and obligation, which told him that going to Earth was the right thing to do, and he dived for the cockpit to assume one of the copilot chairs.

Raan ran through a dozen different emotions all at once, outrage and frustration and skepticism and many more, but finally she settled on hopeless amusement, seeing the fire in Tali's eyes even through her visor, knew that the only thing that would stop her from getting to Earth as soon as possible would indeed be to kill her, and she laughed. "I got the feeling that you love this man, but I guess you _really _love him."

"You have no idea," Tali said wryly, and gave her a quick hug before moving for the cockpit. That simple act served to erase any nagging doubts in Raan's mind, and with a shake of her head, she joined the other two, strapping in and anticipating a very rocky ride.

* * *

Admirals Han'Gerrel and Daro'Xen were standing on an elevated part of terrain looking over the colony, discussing supply acquisition and construction planning for a capitol city where the tents and huts now stood, when they noticed an unexpected gleam of blue light from below, near the heart of it all.

"What is that?" Gerrel asked idly, slightly frustrated at the interruption to his train of thought, but also a little glad for the interruption to Xen's tirade on finding ways to salvage construction materials on their own rather than depending on other races, which would ultimately result in an 'unjustified feeling of indebtedness,' as she put it.

Xen's response was markedly less relaxed than his, and she sounded as though she might pounce at whatever had caused the interruption and rip it to shreds for daring such a thing. "Damned if I know. Probably another slack-jawed 'scientist –' " here she drew quotation symbols in the air for emphasis, " – trying to start up a power generator. I don't know how many times I've told them to wait on a proper power grid to be established. It's not like I'm asking them to go for that long without power, it will only be a matter of weeks at this pace – "

"By the Ancestors," Gerrel breathed, and she was about to make a biting comment that she was sure she would regret later about his constant interruptions when she, too, saw what had caught his eye.

"Is someone _launching _that hunk of junk?" she asked, voice equal parts mystified and sarcastic.

Gerrel didn't reply, instead flicking a switch on the side of his helmet, activating his comm. "Do any admirals read me? Who authorized someone to make use of the shu – of the Office of Homeworld Reclamation?"

"Oh, sorry, Gerrel!" Tali's voice crackled over his suit's speakers, so that both he and Xen could hear it. "I forgot to tell you. We're taking the shuttle – erm, Raan, Zaal and myself, I mean – we're taking it to Earth. Commander Shepard is – he's alive. So we'll try to get it back here soon." Static as she apparently tried to find an appropriate way to end her response. "Keelah – Keelah'selai." And then the static ceased as she cut communication on her end.

Unsure whether they had heard the seemingly nonsensical response correctly, both Han'Gerrel and Daro'Xen gaped at each other uncomprehendingly, and then jumped as a loud roaring sound briefly filled the air, and then the Office of Homeworld Reclamation was off and flying, fading ever more until it was just a speckle of light in the darkening Rannoch sky, and then it was gone, leaving two very confused admirals and a fair number of colonists temporarily deafened by the craft that took off from their midst.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks for the continued reading and reviewing!

During its besiegement at the hand of the Reapers, London had taken devastating amounts of damage, both to infrastructure and to population, leaving it a desolate shell of its former self. Before the invasion, twenty million humans, and even a few culturally curious extraterrestrial immigrants, had called the city home; now, fewer than two million were left, the rest either long escaped or long dead.

Despite this grim fortune, London, like much of the galaxy, was well on its way to recovery. Every able bodied member of the remaining population was engaged in volunteer work, fixing buildings, laying down new roads, cleaning up remnants of the struggle, whether it consisted of rubble or corpses; and help was forthcoming not just from inhabitants of other cities but from inhabitants of other worlds. The krogan were out in force, lending their considerable strength to any task where it could be of use, and the ever-efficient turians, while busy fixing the extensive damage to Palaven, their own homeworld, had gracefully left behind a corps of engineers to help across Earth, and their experience with city planning and construction was proving invaluable to a grateful Human Systems Alliance.

Amidst all the rubble and destruction, survivors of the final battle against the Reapers had been mystified to find one of London's best hospitals, Nathan Levitt Medical Center, almost completely untouched, while everything around it, buildings and vehicles alike, was demolished. Feeling no need to question their good fortune, doctors and nurses did not waste time in appropriating the place, and their hands promptly became full as the injured were carted in by the truckload. The lack of a functioning power grid was problematic at first, and the staff had no option but to resort to archaic methods of care, referring constantly to the various books that were, like the building they resided in, miraculously intact. More people than they would have liked died as a result, before the power grid, with the combined efforts of the humans and their alien allies, was restored.

It was to this medical facility that Commander Shepard was brought, after being spotted on the streets of London by dozens of other survivors, one of whom, a sharp-eyed turian who had been in the process of advising some human engineers on how to best optimize their construction efforts while working around waste removal teams, called in for an ambulance.

Shepard was in worse condition than he would ever really understand, almost literally a walking corpse, when that ambulance found him, and the paramedics had been baffled by the simple fact that he was alive, that he had been _walking_ and had apparently been doing so for some time, because his body was well into the process of shutting down; but just as Shepard would never understand how bad his condition had been, the medics would never understand, would never have been able to understand, how powerful his motivation was - how the thought of a single quarian woman had pushed him into the most personal and the most difficult fight of his life, and had pushed him to win it.

The reward for that victory was life, and pain, much more pain, and in those few moments where Shepard emerged from his foggy delirium, a delirium filled with overbearing heat (why was it so hot) and periodic outpourings of emotion so pure and unfiltered that it left him feeling empty and spent afterward, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him, why he hadn't just _died, _because surely nothingness would be preferable to this.

But then he heard her, saw her, felt her, and he gritted his teeth, and he kept fighting.

* * *

For his first week in Nathan Levitt Medical Center Shepard's world was a blur, a blur of constant sensory overload, in which the line between reality and his dreams became hazy, and he was never sure whether what he was seeing was _real_, whether the clean blue room or the men and women in white suits he periodically saw were real, or if the Illusive Man, face decaying, blue eyes glowing in the gloom, shouting _I can control them_ was real, or if it was actually Legion, looking out at the sunset

_Keelah Se'lai_

that was real, or if it was Admiral Anderson, body bloodied and eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion (_feels like years since I just sat down_), that was real; all he knew was that it all sounded equally vivid, all looked equally tangible, but in a world where he felt nothing but strange smothering heat and jolts of pain that were enough to make him groan and and shout (even his screams might have been the stuff of dreams, there was just no way for him to know), it was impossible to distinguish one from the other.

These sensations, the way his body felt and the way his mind perceived things, worked in cycles, and inevitably, whether it was minutes or hours passing, it would all climax, his existence becoming unbearable, one ghostly voice clamoring over the other,

_Shepard-Commander_

_Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness_

_Someone else might have gotten it wrong_

_I tried, Shepard_

an excruciating cacophony that made him feel his mind might break, physical agony so vivid that his body writhed and lashed about in his bed and he feared that it, too, might break; but equally cyclical was her,

_Come back to me_

_You are real, real and mine_

_I reach for you_

and he would reach for her, and the cacophony would subside, for a time, and the agony would fade or at least his perception of it would fade, and he would sleep easy, before it all began again, repeating over and over, for what might as well have been a thousand years.

But he heard her, saw her, felt her, and he gritted his teeth, and he kept fighting.

* * *

The shuttle which for a time served as the quarians' Office of Homeworld Reclamation was by no means on the cutting edge of tech, but the ride to Earth was proving nowhere near as harrowing as Tali's traveling companions had anticipated. Granted, the nearly catastrophic drive failure eight hours into the trip had left Zaal'Koris a little on-edge, but Tali fixed everything up just before plasma began venting in to the engine room – which, in a ship as small and interconnected as theirs, would have meant plasma for every other part of the ship as well – and had waved aside their fresh doubts about her choice of craft with vague assurances and agile conversational dodges.

For the two older admirals, it was a largely uneventful few days, but for Tali, it was the most excruciating voyage of her life, worse even than when the Normandy SR-2 had been forced to leave Shepard behind in order to rendezvous with the fleet, because this time, mixed in with the rest of her jumbled emotions, there was _hope_, and thusly there was the chance of that hope being broken, and the wound on her heart being torn freshly asunder. And although she knew she was doing the right thing, although she knew she would never have allowed things to transpire in any other way, she still felt some guilt over leaving her responsibilities on Rannoch behind. There she had been working to help build a future, and now she was running back into her past, in many ways, and it made her feel selfish; did finding some closure for her personal problems really take precedence over the entire quarian race? Was her dislike for Admiral Daro'Xen, based as it was on the older woman's willingness to put ambition over the wellbeing of her kin, more hypocritical than she ever could have realized?

Ultimately, none of that mattered. Everything she'd told Shala'Raan after hearing the news had been completely true, some of the most genuine words she'd ever spoken, as was often the case when Commander Shepard was involved – that if there was even a remote chance of him being alive, of seeing him again, the only way to stop her from taking those chances was to kill her. While sentiments like that had once struck her as comically absurd, exaggerations for narrative effect best left to corny vids or novels, she now knew that some love was strong enough to lend truth to them, and she found a certain pride in the recognition that hers was such a love.

It was that knowledge, and that hope, that kept her going now, because she was not sleeping well, and for the days that the three quarians had been en route to Earth, she had only managed to rest for a handful of hours. It was completely irrational, and she knew it, but it felt wrong to sleep when he might be in pain – witnesses, according to the newsfeed, had said Shepard looked like 'death' when he was found – and in any case, for the brief times her body _had _succumbed to weariness, nightmares had haunted her; she relived her goodbye to Shepard, his hand slipping from the side of her visor,

_Build a home_

her own hand reaching out desperately to him even as the Normandy moved further away, and then a red beam flashing where he stood, weapon of the Reapers, leaving her unable to do anything but scream at her helplessness. From this dream she awoke presently, feeling a cold sweat under her suit, heart beating loudly in her ears, and to her embarrassment, a tear trailing down her cheek.

Tali cursed her mind for forcing her to relive that painful memory in her most vulnerable state. She felt the weight of fatigue on her eyelids but dared not close them again, and instead, rose from the uncomfortable bed she had claimed in the crew's quarters. Across the room was Shala'Raan, sleeping soundly, a portable computer resting on her rising and falling chest, no doubt filled with reports from Rannoch. Tali noted that Zaal'Koris was not in his bed, and found him shortly thereafter sitting in the cockpit that was her destination, reclining in the copilot's chair, hands clasped before him, staring into the stars that were blurring past them.

He started a bit as she brushed by him and assumed the pilot's seat. "Oh," he said, distractedly, as though he had been deep in thought. "You're awake." A pause. "Already?"

Tali glanced at the chronometer on the pilot's haptic interface and realized that it had hardly been an hour since she had risen from the very chair she was sitting in now, and retired to bed. "Yes," she said quietly. Then she looked at him, a thought occurring to her. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

"Heavens, no," the older quarian said, waving a hand dismissively at the notion. "I was just…enjoying the silence. An old man lost in his thoughts." He cocked his head a bit to the side. "You're not sleeping well?"

"Nightmares," said Tali.

Koris looked down at his hands, rubbing them idly against one another. "You mustn't burn yourself out, Tali'Zorah," he said after a moment. "You've been through a lot, more than I can ever know, and you're still moving at breakneck speed. Even you have your limits. And the quarian people still need you."

"Me?" Tali snorted, amused at the notion. "I'm just some girl who ran off to fly around the galaxy with a human. Keelah, I've been tried for _treason_, I'm not exactly leadership material – "

"Yes you are," Koris cut her off sharply, and Tali fell silent, taken aback by the fierceness of his reply. "You are, more than you realize. You are a kind, thoughtful, gentle young woman, and our people respect you. More importantly, you respect them, and will always do right by them." He shook his head, sternness suddenly fading, replaced by weariness. "And that treason hearing was a _mistake_. Our mistake. My mistake. And I'm…I'm sorry, Tali." He drew himself up regally, but Tali was not amused by it this time, and felt his remorse. "You didn't deserve it, and every man, woman and child on Rannoch knows that."

It felt strange, hearing him say such things to her now, years after the fact, when he had had plenty of opportunity to make such an apology earlier, and Tali wondered what thoughts must have been going through his mind before she entered the cockpit, to make him so suddenly willing to talk, really talk – rare, for the frequently pontificating admiral, and it was those precious rare instances that convinced her that he was much more than some blowhard idealist. "Okay," she said softly, and patted his arm. "I wasn't looking for an apology, honest, but – thank you." And then her tone became more dry, ironic. "I still don't see how I would make a good leader. I don't even want to be one. I'm not like you, Admiral. I like to help, but I don't have the same drive to be involved that you do."

"And yet not once have you ever done wrong by your kin," Koris said. "Even when accused of just that, you stood proud and fought to save the Fleet, from a threat not of your making, when you might have been justified in spitefully leaving us to our own undoing. And then, when the chance came to step up and shoulder even more of our shared burden, and become an admiral, you _took_ it." He slapped one fist into the opposite palm for emphasis. "Not only did you take it, but you never once compromised your principles, and always spoke your piece. You didn't let Han'Gerrel or Daro'Xen or even myself push you in to anything. I'm…" he paused awkwardly. "For what it's worth, I respect you for that."

Tali found herself wringing her hands, as she so often did in uncomfortable situations, where she did not know what to say. She felt herself blushing slightly at his sudden kindness. "I just did what any quarian would do," she said, hearing the hollowness of the statement even as it emerged, and wishing she'd thought of something better, that might match the earnestness of his own words.

Koris regarded her in silent appraisal. "You might be surprised," he said at length. "In any case, the point I was trying to make is: take care of yourself. You may not think it yet, but I believe you still have a bigger role to play."

"Okay," said Tali lamely, and then silence descended on them. She swiped perfunctorily at her computer's interface, accomplishing nothing but looking busy, and when she looked back at Koris, hoping to breach a more lighthearted subject, she found him gazing pensively out the viewport once more.

"Must be nice to get away from the others for a bit," she said, referring to Gerrel and Xen, and he turned back to her.

"Why would I want to get away from them?" he asked mildly.

Tali gaped, and her face flushed again, realizing that she might have made a very big error in judgment. After the personal exchange they had just shared, it had been all too easy to forget that they were still formal colleagues, and that while making fun of her fellow admirals was easy enough with the Normandy crew, it was a social faux pas when with other quarians."Well – I mean – you guys are just always arguing with each other – "

An interminably uncomfortable silence filled the cockpit, and inwardly Tali bashed herself. Why did she have to have such a big mouth? It seemed like every other day, she spoke thoughts that should not have been spoken, and she wondered how long it would be until she offended a krogan or something, and got stabbed as a result.

To her relief, Koris broke the silence with a chuckle. "I suppose I can see how we must look to you. Or to anyone else, for that matter," he added, crossing his arms. "You have to understand, Tali, most of us in the admiralty have been serving for a long time. Gerrel and I, in particular. I think we've been arguing nonstop since our first official meeting." He chuckled again. "And Xen, well, she's a very smart woman, and she knows exactly what she feels about everything. Not a doubt in her mind that _she's _in the right, and I admire that unfailing confidence. As for me, well…" He shook his head ruefully. "I realize that I can be…_difficult _to work with, at the best of times.

"When it comes down to it, all of us want what _we _think is best for the quarian people. All of us are trying to help. And while we don't always agree – " He paused. "While we may _hardly ever _agree, I like to think we all respect each other. That we all think of one another as friends."

Tali's embarrassment was gone, replaced by respect and even an ounce of admiration. How often had she type-casted this man, laughed at his behavior behind his back? Sure, she had always been cordial with him, had for a time known, if abstractly, that he was a good leader despite his theatricality, but never before had she realized just how lucky they were to have him. "I'm glad you came, Koris," she said simply.

"As am I, Tali." And then the admiral clapped her twice on the shoulder and said: "We'll get that mate of yours up and on his feet in no time."

Just as quickly as Tali's embarrassment had evaporated it returned, more fiercely now, manifesting itself in a blush that practically fogged up her visor. She had thought that of the quarians, only Shala'Raan knew about the true nature of her relationship with Commander Shepard. "My ma - ? How did you - ?"

"You are not nearly as good at keeping secrets as you think," Koris said mysteriously, leaving Tali's mind reeling, wondering just how many people actually knew, when suddenly her computer's beeping caught her attention.

She scanned the haptic interface's reports quickly, and brightened. "We're nearly at Earth," she announced. "Hitting the Sol Relay in ten seconds."

Koris stood and stretched his limbs, clasping the three fingers of his hands together and flexing them at arm's length. "Splendid. I'll go wake Raan up – "

His sentence was cut off as the shuttle groaned, loudly and forebodingly, all around them, as though the hull were protesting all the stress it was enduring. The two quarians looked all around them, then at each other, sharing in their trepidation, and then out the viewport as the stars ceased to blur, defining themselves into single individual points of light in the black vaccum, indicating that they were back to subluminal speeds.

"I did not like the sound of that," said Koris.

And then the ship began to fall apart.

* * *

Shala'Raan was rudely awakened from her slumber in a way that she was not accustomed to. She was quite literally slung out of her bed, tossed against Tali's bed opposite hers to then roll briefly about on the floor, as the ship heaved and rocked and shook, the walls rattling loudly, klaxons waking from their own long sleep to blare redundant warnings.

It took the admiral a moment to gain her bearings, raising herself to all fours and shaking her head to stave off dizziness, swearing under her breath. She observed dimly that she had crushed her portable document reader, but was more concerned with her own health as the ship went through another violent convulsion, bucking forward in space and threatening to send her into another free-fall.

Heart pounding in her chest and all signs of sleepiness long gone, Raan rose to her feet and dashed out of the crew's quarters to the cockpit, where she found Tali and Koris, the former of whom was sitting in the pilots chair, fingers a blur as she interfaced with her computer, and the latter standing behind his own chair, hugging it with a viselike grip.

"What's going on?" she shouted, struggling to be heard above the racket the ship was making.

"We just came out of relay speed," Koris bellowed back, turning his head slightly to acknowledge her. "The ship isn't handling the transition too well. Bloody miracle it took us this far, if you want my opinion – "

"_Boshtet_!" Tali swore, cutting him off, and she slammed her fists against her chair's arms. "The interface!"

Indeed, the holographic interface through which pilot communicated with the ship's computers had vanished. Raan's mind, still a bit foggy from sleep, put two and two together – the haptic interface controlled the ship, the ship that was falling apart, and no controls meant…

"Oh Keelah," she breathed, and Koris, apparently reaching the same conclusion, blanched beneath his mask.

* * *

Toral Noverius was a comfortably average Earthling. He was born in London to a loving mother and father, went to a private school for gifted children, got his diploma, and entered the workforce. His days were spent cheerfully slaving away at his job, and his nights were spent with calming sessions in which he sipped the finest libations and enjoyed the finest literature.

He was also a turian.

After the First Contact War, wherein humans, after activating their solar system's mass relay, came into conflict with their celestial neighbors, the turians, Toral's parents decided that they wanted to better understand the new species on the galactic scene which had so briefly served as their enemy. As far as turians went, his parents had been very pacifistic, what humans would call 'liberal,' choosing not to enlist in military service or some other form of state employment, but instead wandering the stars, enjoying the music and cultures of other races. They fell in love with Earth, specifically with London, and were among the first nonhumans to settle in the city, establishing a home which would have made even the most xenophobic native feel at ease, with an Exceptionally Average lawn and an Exceptionally Average paint job and an Exceptionally Average vehicle in the driveway. Their Exceptional Averageness, of course, came from the fact that they were going out of their way to emulate human culture, both out of a sense of adventure and out of a desire to understand.

At some point, half a decade later, Toral Noverius was born, and the turian parents' little bundle of joy was raised in accordance with everything else, to be Exceptionally Average by Earth standards. He grew up immersed in human culture, watching their vids, reading their books, even eating emulated versions of their food altered accordingly for his DNA system. With the exception of some light bullying from his peers in the earliest years, his school career was Exceptionally Average, including a brief and doomed relationship with a human girl as a teenager, and then he became an Exceptionally Average worker for the city government, filing paperwork and paying his taxes. He was not oblivious to his differentness, of course, and it had given him his fair share of discomfort as he grew up, feeling apart and alone at times, and during those times he had explored the extranet, seeking to understand turian culture.

He found, seeing the militancy and severity of his ilk, that he rather preferred human culture, and he was all too happy to settle into a routine existence in London. There were plenty of asari and even turian females on Earth at any given time, and he frequently entertained the idea of starting a family.

His existing family, such as it was, mother and father, was wiped out when the Reapers hit, both of them extinguished in the initial chaos, as the massive machines first descended from the sky, their infernal horns blaring as though to announce the end of days. Toral himself had been walking to work at the time, and it was only through sheer luck that he avoided his own demise, dodging and ducking as buildings around him fell and missiles exploded in uncomfortably close proximity. Not inclined to violence, he did not resist the temporary rulers, and when they shepherded organics into 'camps,' where they waited for their fate, he complied. It was not through any feat of bravery or daring that he survived this period, either, which dragged on for several months – he watched his fellow Londoners processed into the big Reapers, from which they never returned, but they never reached him. One night, chaos reigned in the city, a great battle raging, and then the Reapers were dead, and he was free.

It often haunted him, in the dead of night, to think of how much longer it might have been until he, too, was directed into one of those monstrosities, and he wondered what gruesome death would have awaited him within. Rumors had been abound of victims being grinded into paste, or turned into one of those hideous synthetic ground troops, and neither option sounded particularly palatable.

But everything was back to normal now, or at least some semblance of that, and he was comfortably situated in an Exceptionally Average job, air traffic controller, directing incoming space craft to any of the cleared landing zones in London, and all was right with the world again. It was therapeutic, that job, because for the past few nightmarish months he had been completely helpless, but as he sat at his computer, now, overlooking the steadily rebuilt city, the fate of those space jockeys in his hands, to a small degree at least, he finally felt in control.

Toral bid his current client a good day, having given them clearance to land nearby, and leaned back in his chair, adjusting his microphone. It was of a human design, built for human heads, and so sat awkwardly on his; but he was stubbornly making it work, to the bemusement of his boss, who had offered him a turian headset. He looked to his neighbor, a rotund, soft-featured and dark-skinned man named Maxim.

"Got anything planned for after your shift?" he asked conversationally.

Maxim exhaled heavily and took off his own headset, and then joined Tolus in leaning back. "I wish," he replied forlornly, looking out at London. Every day there were heartening signs of progress, and fewer and fewer signs of destruction, but it was all still a pale imitation. "Not much to do right now, y'know? All the good pubs got blasted to hell."

"I hear that," Toral said agreeably, although since human alcohol gave him significant indigestion or, at worst, threatened to kill him, he had only rarely patronized any pubs. "How's the family?"

Maxim smiled, as the turian had anticipated. He knew that the human's family was miraculously intact, and that he was finding new survivors almost daily, making the question a surefire way to elicit the happy reaction. Toral liked making humans smile. It made him feel normal. "Good, thanks for asking. Little Nora still won't sleep alone, but I think we're making progress."

"Poor kid," Toral offered sympathetically. "Shame she had to see all of that." He gestured vaguely out the window.

Maxim's smile faded a little bit, and his eyes saddened as he nodded. "Yeah." Then he turned to face Toral. "How about you, any survivors found yet?"

"No," Toral answered simply. He had not shared with anyone that his parents were both dead, how he had found their bodies lying mangled a few blocks away from their Exceptionally Average home.

His human coworker patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you find 'em."

"Thanks. I appreciate that," Toral replied, and meant it. If there was one thing he admired about humans, even if he didn't fully understand it, it was their emotional empathy. His parents had been very expressive, but that was by turian standards, and Toral had often watched jealously as his classmates were hugged and kissed by their mothers or fathers, while his own hugged him only in privacy. He missed even those rare expressions of affection now, realized that their infrequency had made them all the more powerful.

The two air traffic controllers returned to their consoles, waiting for their next call. Toral, some annoyance flaring up, adjusted his headset for the umpteenth time, but never once did the idea of asking his boss for the turian design cross his mind.

His computer beeped. Toral cleared his throat, used two of his fingers to hold the microphone near to his mouth, and used the opposite hand to flick on the comm. "London Metropolitan Docking Authority," he recited smoothly.

A deep and unmistakably krogan voice crackled into his ears, and Toral frowned. Despite his upbringing on Earth, and despite his parents' tolerance and even fascination with alien cultures, he, like so many other turians, had an inborn mistrust of the krogan. He had heard about the alliance between their peoples, but was still convinced that the savage aliens would end up starting another Rebellion. "This is the _Kalros_, requesting clearance to land."

Toral glanced at the dock availability readout. There were plenty of places for the _Kalros _to land, but working on some strange instinct, inspired out of paranoia and xenophobia as much as it was out of concern for the wounded city, deviated from his script, something he would normally never dream of doing, but this was _his _home, dammit, and he wasn't about to let some krogan come in and make things worse. "Specify purpose for your visit."

There was silence from the other end, and Toral imagined the krogan hunched over together, whispering conspiratorially, coming up with some excuse, and his prejudice flared up even worse. It did not occur to him that they might simply be surprised by the question. Finally, the deep voice responded: "We're here to visit a friend."

A likely story, Toral thought skeptically. He noticed Maxim glancing at him sidelong, no doubt baffled by his unresponsiveness, but brushed that aside. What excuse could he come up with to deny the krogan entry? He glanced again at his console, reading its reports about the _Kalros_. There were no immediately evident registry issues, or any maintenance oversights that he could wield as an excuse to turn them away, but his gut told him not to let them through. He opened his mouth, ready to improvise and take his chances, when suddenly the high-pitched blaring of his emergency comm channel sounded off.

He stared curiously at the flashing light on his console, and then spoke into his mic. "Stand by, _Kalros_."

The krogan on the other end started to say something, but Toral reached up and flicked their comm channel off, switching instead to the emergency one. "London Metropolitan Docking Autho – "

And he blinked, jerking back in surprise, as static and screeching filled his ears, but he knew better than to remove his headset during an emergency call. He kept listening and was rewarded by a very alarmed-sounding voice. "This is the quarian vessel…uhm…this is a quarian civilian shuttle! Our ship is heavily damaged and falling apart. Requesting _immediate _assistance! Repeat, requesting _immediate _assis – " And then the transmission ended, consumed by another burst of static before going completely silent.

Toral Noverius sat in stunned silence for a long moment before the implications of the call hit him. There were quarians in trouble, and it was up to him to save the day.

He lunged for his computer's interface and began making the appropriate calls, feeling so very nicely in control.

* * *

" – _immediate _assistance!" Raan yelled at the copilot's computer console, and then she swore as the ship heaved back and forth, side to side, walls rattling and groaning so loudly she was forced to reach up and dial down the volume on her auditory emulators. Her curses began to flow anew as the fragilely repaired haptic interface fizzled out and disappeared again.

"Oh I _knew _this was going to happen," Koris offered unhelpfully even as he tinkered with the inner workings of the pilot's computer, the casing of which he had torn off with unexpected strength a little earlier. "Would it _really _have been so difficult to request use of one of the Fleet's ships? Certainly, we would have had to wait a little longer, but – "

"Not helping, Koris," Raan interrupted him curtly, slamming her hands futilely against her console, as though to intimidate it into projecting its control interface.

Tali chose that moment, as the ship bucked wildly to one side, to literally slide in to the room, bumping against Koris, sending him further into the computer's innards and eliciting a loud oath that echoed metallically. "I did all I could," she yelled. "But it's not going to be enough to hold this ship together."

Koris, nursing the side of his visor as though it had suffered a bruise, emerged from his work. "What's the diagnosis?"

Tali looked grimly from one of her companions to the other. "Fifteen minutes," she said, and needn't have said any more, as they all knew what that meant: that in fifteen minutes, they would be nothing but a memory.

Raan looked out the viewport, to Earth, which was looming ever closer, as the ship was being propelled as fast as it could without risking complete disintegration, yet still seemed ominously distant given Tali's prognosis. "And how long until we get there?" she asked, nodding at the blue orb hanging in space.

Tali gazed for a long second at that same object, and then said, "Sixteen minutes."

Koris propelled himself to his feet so rapidly that he appeared a blur and turned to face Raan. "Did you get through to docking control? Are they sending help?"

"I don't know," Raan replied limply, smacking the console for good measure. "I got through to someone, but I don't know how much they heard."

The rattling of the hull reached a fever pitch for a moment before receding to a more normal volume. All three quarians nearly lost their footing as a series of shakes and bucks took the ship, and then the lights, already dim, flickered on and off. Tali, however, only sounded more determined as she told them, "Don't count us out just yet. Auntie, I need you to come with me to the engine room. Koris," she added, turning to him, "please keep trying to fix the controls. Let me know if you get anywhere."

Koris nodded, and returned to the inner workings of the pilot computer, as Tali and Raan dashed out of the cockpit and down the corridor to the engine room, nervous but in their element, as quarians were no stranger to mid-flight maintenance problems, no matter how severe.

And Tali, at least, had one very good reason to fight with her utmost to keep the ship intact until it could reach Earth, one very tormented reason, whose nightmares and hallucinations were, at that very moment, consuming him.

* * *

The krogan vessel _Kalros _was not actually a krogan vessel at all, but a turian one, a gift of good faith from their new allies. Like all turian ships, it was exceptionally well designed, aesthetically pleasing but functional, its flawless silver hull gleaming in the light cast by Sol, as it hovered in the vacuum, stuck there until it could receive clearance; clearance which, for the past ten minutes, its occupants had been awaiting.

Those occupants, as Toral suspected, were all krogan, but they were not, as he suspected, there to wreak havoc on a fragile world. Instead, Urdnot Wrex, Urdnot Grunt, and two others – Urdnot Bont, a doctor (rare among his people and thus the frequent butt of jokes), and Jorgal Finn, a diplomat (not quite as rare as a doctor) – were indeed at Earth to visit a friend.

Now, Urdnot Wrex stood, arms crossed against his mighty chest, glaring out the ship's viewport at the planet. Grunt, almost but not quite as big as his superior, and with gleaming silver armor that stood out in stark contrast to Wrex's dark red, sat at the comm station, his thick fingers clenching and unclenching with impatience.

"I don't like waiting," Grunt growled. "What are we even waiting _for_? Last time I came here, there was a lot more chaos on the surface, and I still got through almost immediately."

"I don't like waiting, either," Wrex assented. "But don't do anything stupid. We need to play nice if we want to get into that hospital."

"We shouldn't _have _to play nice," Grunt argued, twisting around in his chair to look up at Wrex with one eye. "We've fought side by side with Commander Shepard. We're companions, our bond forged by blood and sweat. We deserve to be there more than anyone else."

"Preachin' to the choir, there, Grunt," Wrex grumbled, using a human expression he'd rather taken a fancy to.

They both turned as the sound of a door opening caught their attention, and Urdnot Bont stomped on to the bridge. He was a hulking specimen of his species, but he lacked the intimidating appearance of the other two, in part because his skin lacked scars, rare among the confrontational krogan, and in part because he was not wearing armor, but a robe, long and flowing and royal blue, and constantly bore a holographic interface across his nose and eyes. All of this lent him an academic look rather than a warrior-like one, which was fitting, as he had spent most of his considerable lifespan dedicated to practicing medicine on Illium (after all his services were scorned on Tuchanka, whose natives reviled doctors) and working to gain some respect for his kind among the galactic medical community.

"Bont," Wrex hailed him good-naturedly. He liked the doctor, and had sought him out after the war ended, urging him to return to Tuchanka, where, he promised, he would find a much better reception as lead Medical Researcher of the Krogan Union. "Good. You're up. I was going to wake you and the asshole in a couple of minutes." 'Asshole,' of course, was the name he had chosen for Jorgal Finn, who was an uptight, rabidly traditionalist politician, and would not have been brought along if Wrex had had any control over the matter; but Urdnot Bakara, his broodmate and joint leader of the krogan, had insisted on his accompanying them, to represent the other clans.

Bont waved his greeting aside, literally, his thick fingers cleaving a path through the air. "Are you blind or just stupid?" He asked bluntly. He was gentler physically than other krogan, but he certainly did not lack for his specie's disregard for social etiquette.

Wrex blinked. "Wha - ?"

The doctor stomped past him and stood by the viewport, jabbing a finger at a specific spot of the vacuum. Wrex walked closer, squinting, and Grunt rose from his chair to join them, also squinting his eyes.

At length Wrex said: "I don't see anyth – "

He never got to finish, as Bont smacked him across the top of his armored head, drawing more bemused blinking from the krogan leader. Anyone else would have been headbutted for such insolence, but Wrex liked and respected Bont, and knew that he needn't fear a challenge to his authority. "Use your eyes, moron," the doctor snapped. "You don't see that ship jerking around like a varren in its death throes?"

And now Wrex did see it, a dejected-looking shuttle that might have been more appropriate in a scrapyard, visibly rocking to and fro, the blue glow of its engines flickering in and out of existence. The analogy, of a varren in its death throes, was accurate, and the ship was clearly about to fall apart.

"Okay," Grunt said, and both of the other krogan turned to regard him. The tank-bred shrugged. "So a ship's about to explode. What business is that of ours?"

That was the wrong thing to say, as the idealistic Bont, who often railed against the emotional ignorance of their people, how it made them appear savage to the other races, stormily closed the short distance between them and thrust their faces close together. "So you would choose to let them crash and burn?"

"I don't think they'll make it far enough to crash," Grunt snickered, oblivious to the death being glared in his direction. "And anyway, if the beings on board were dumb enough to risk flying in _that _hunk of junk, then they deserve to die. There's no room for the weak-willed in this galaxy."

Bont opened his mouth to launch into a tirade, but Wrex suddenly pushed them apart and shook his great head. "None of that matters," he told them, and they both turned quizzical looks his way. "Don't you get it? If we save those morons – " here Bont's confused look turned into a glare – "we have a way _in. _Big heroes save the day, have frightened survivors on board, get immediate clearance."

"That's why you're the boss," Grunt said admiringly, or at least as admiringly as a krogan could sound, while Bont rested his pointed face in his palm.

"What?" Wrex asked indignantly, noticing his exasperation. "You wanted to save 'em. I'm gonna save 'em. You should be praising me as the hero I am."

"You're a hero, Wrex, but this is hardly the reason why," Bont replied, leaving Wrex looking baffled. "Well, whatever gets you pyjaks to get off your tails and do the right thing. Just hurry."

Wrex nodded, and with a pat on Grunt's powerful shoulder, the two moved off to the ship's controls, and set to work on their dubious act of charity.


	4. Chapter 4

It took the tech drones of both Raan and Tali, combined with their own fervent efforts, to keep the drive core of the rapidly deteriorating shuttle from outright exploding. The outdated device, which was not only markedly old but also had clearly not been properly maintained, was emanating increasingly intolerable amounts of heat into the engine room, and only the tech drones were able to move in close enough to cool it manually; meanwhile, the two quarians scrambled from one side of the tiny compartment to the other, using every trick and technique they'd learned from lifetimes in the Migrant Fleet as they tinkered with stubbornly unresponsive computers.

Tali found herself fighting against more than just the ship, but also against mounting fear – not of death, itself, but of dying before seeing _him _again – and creeping guilt. She was the one, after all, who had insisted on recklessly taking the decrepit craft to Earth, when they could just as easily have requested a more flightworthy vessel - but she hadn't wanted to _wait_, and now that impatience may have doomed her companions. The idea of her auntie Raan's death, as well as Koris's, being on her shoulders made her feel trapped, somehow, bottled up, like she was stuck in a cage with no way out.

Still, brooding on such things was not going to help the situation, and so she struggled to focus, blinking through the fatigue in her eyes, striving to find some of the inner strength which had got her past so many difficulties, from fighting Saren's geth, to discovering her father was dead, to saying goodbye to the man she loved.

Raan's voice, composed but laced with worry, piped up from somewhere over her shoulder. "We can't stay in here for much longer. Our environmental controls can only fight off so much heat."

"I know," Tali replied, yelling to be heard over the humming of the obliviously occupied tech drones, the frantic pulsing of the drive core, and the rattling of the walls all around them. She turned to Raan. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Auntie."

The older quarian continued working, fingers a blur as she manipulated the inner workings of a control panel, but her head snapped in Tali's direction. "Don't say such things, child," she said sternly. "I chose to come with you. It was my decision. I would do it a million times more if it meant a chance of seeing you happy again. And besides…" her tone softened. "You said it yourself. Don't count us out yet."

Tali, unable to find words, just nodded gratefully and returned to her efforts, more effectively now, her guilt subsiding, if only a little.

* * *

If, as the human saying went, three was a crowd and four was a party, then there was presently a party taking place on the bridge of the _Kalros_, although it was, by any standard, a terrible party. Jorgal Finn had joined the other krogan on the bridge and was trailing Wrex more closely than his own shadow, taking every opportunity to question and undermine his words. This was the standard modus operandi for the diplomat, who would look unremarkable if not for the plethora of scars that covered every inch of his exposed skin, a prolific amount even for his kind, and his black robe, similar to Urdnot Bont's except for its color, black with gold lacing instead of blue.

While Finn was accompanying the three Urdnot clanmembers to Earth on a cooperatively diplomatic capacity, on Tuchanka his role was much more antagonistic. Urdnot was the dominant clan, and both of the krogan's leaders – Wrex and Bakara - came from within its ranks, but in order to keep some of their rich history alive, the other clans had united under the banner of clan Jorgal, which boasted a pure and extensive lineage. Where Urdnot was progressive, pushing for the development of the krogan species, and embraced a contributing role on the galactic stage, Jorgal was the opposite, stubbornly conservative, deriding the idea of a peaceful krogan – after all, they reasoned, they had always been a warrior race, it was in their blood – and demanding retribution against the perpetrators of the genophage. That was the most contentious issue of all, and it was taking significant resources and stringent enforcement on the part of Urdnot to prevent another Krogan Rebellion.

Jorgal Finn, as the ordained representative of clan Jorgal, chosen for his illustrious battle history, had made it his duty in life to supplant Urdnot, or more specifically, Urdnot Wrex. The current krogan leader had the benefit of useful friends from all over the galaxy, including a close personal camaraderie with Primarch Victus of the turians and the trust of the human Alliance, and it was too risky for Jorgal to try and outright overthrow him; and so they made sure to keep their gaze constantly on him, probing for weakness, waiting for him to slip up and provide an opportunity for what they felt was a much-needed return to krogan roots.

Whether or not the validity of their platform, however, was furthered by Finn's constant nitpicking, was a matter of debate.

"This is not only absurd, it is demeaning," the traditionalist krogan, dubbed simply 'asshole' by Wrex, said, as the _Kalros _glided closer to the quarian shuttle. "You are the leader of the krogan. Your actions have consequences. We are a proud, hard people, and you are perpetuating the idea of us as simpering Samaritans – "

"Do you ever stop talking?" Wrex muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, but of course, everyone heard. Grunt, sitting now at the helm, snorted derisively. Finn's head whipped in his direction, eyes glowering, and the lower-ranking krogan wisely fell silent. He, like many members of clan Urdnot, shared in Wrex's disdain for Finn, but also recognized that he held a lot of sway, and that it was best not to push him too far.

Still glaring at Grunt, Finn said, "And I say again, the fact that you have taken this…_pale imitation_ on to your vessel does not sit well with me, Wrex. It does not sit well with Jorgal. It is wrong."

Wrex continued gazing out the viewport, appearing completely disinterested in the conversation, which he knew frustrated the diplomat endlessly. True to this, Finn's teeth bared in a silent snarl throughout the leader's detached reply. "This _pale imitation _is responsible for more Reaper deaths than all of your clan's best warriors combined. Show a little respect." He finally turned his head so that one sharp eye looked into his adversary's. "Or do you pick and choose _which _warriors you respect?"

"No need to stick up for me, chief," Grunt growled, turning to regard Finn with a fierce grin. "We can settle this krogan-to-krogan."

"Mind your place, runt," Finn barked, and then suddenly found his world reduced briefly to spots and stars as a hand smacked the top of his head. Outraged, he whipped about to confront the aggressor, only to find that it was Urdnot Bont, who then trudged past him as he spoke. "Every day with this nonsense," the doctor griped irritably, stopping beside Wrex. "Like a bunch of children comparing the size of their quads."

"He started it," Wrex said innocently, eye twinkling with mirth, and vaguely indicated toward Finn, who shook his head in wordless frustration. The krogan leader raised his voice slightly as he continued. "If anyone here doesn't like the way I do things, they can either do something _about_ it, or shut up and get out of the way."

Finn was not oblivious to the challenge, and for a long moment it seemed as if he might finally snap and engage Wrex in battle, but ultimately he turned and stomped off of the bridge, robe billowing grandly behind him, no doubt adding this most recent offense to a long list of grievances.

Trying to keep the smugness from his expression but failing spectacularly, Wrex watched over his shoulder plates as the door hissed shut. Bont noticed this and shook his head. "One day, you're going to anger him, and he _won't_ just walk away."

"I'm counting on it," Wrex replied. "Would give me an excuse to get rid of him." He moved up and sat at a console next to Grunt's. "Now let's see if we can get our tickets raised on the comm."

"Don't get your hopes up," Grunt commented, swiping and pressing at his interface with effortless skill. Warlord Okeer, during the tank-bred krogan's creation, had implanted all the knowledge he needed to pilot the spacecraft of any species, and the war against the Reapers had offered ample opportunity to put that knowledge into practical application. "Comm systems are usually some of the first to go when a ship is falling apart. Especially if that ship happens to be a piece of maw dung."

Wrex chortled at his trusted subordinate's questionable wit and then flicked on the _Kalros_'s transmitter, broadcasting to all frequencies, while Bont stared incredulously at them. "Damaged shuttle, this is Urdnot Wrex of the _Kalros_, offering assistance. I repeat, this is … "

* * *

Zaal'Koris realized, as he fumbled aimlessly with the wires and gears within the pilot console, that his technical skills had become very rusty. As an admiral of the Migrant Fleet, there had always been a subordinate to whom he would relegate such matters. It was impossible to entirely forget the skills that were essential to survival for a people that relied so heavily on spacecraft, but those basics that he could still recall were hardly useful in such an emergency situation.

As though sensing his doubts, the wires he was trying to join spat out hot sparks, and Koris instinctively dropped them, retracting his hands and checking his gloves for breaches. "Bloody thing," he mumbled, but not to be deterred, he picked the wires back up and stubbornly completed his attempt. He did not expect it to be of any help, but after their brief rebellion, it seemed necessary to remind them who was in control.

Koris awkwardly removed himself from the console casing and slumped back against the base of the pilot's chair, wishing forlornly that he could take off his visor and wipe the sweat from his brow. The voice that loudly and abruptly crackled from the pilot's computer speakers caught him by surprise, and he started, head jerking up to look at the haptic interface which was now restored - whether by his random repair efforts or sheer chance, he could not say.

" – _the _Kalros, _offering assistance. I repeat, this is – _" Static consumed any further words, only allowing that one fragmented phrase to repeat every few seconds.

"Tali!" Koris shouted excitedly, gripping the seat behind him and clambering to his feet. "Raan!"

Standing, he peeked out into the corridor, and did not see either quarian approaching. Recognizing that the endless rattling of the shuttle's walls and the wailing of the klaxons rendered it impossible for him to call to them, he moved to head to the engine room, but thought better of it, glancing down at the haptic interface. It could die again at any moment, and then they would be back where they started, so he sat down and turned on the comm. "_Kalros_, we read you. You say you can help us?"

After a tense silence the voice replied, periodically cut off by static interference. " – _glad to hear – not space paste. We – by to take you – to our ship. Stand by for –airlock._"

So someone had heard Raan's distress call, after all. Heartened, Koris propelled himself from the pilot's chair and ran, more energetically than he had in some time, down the corridor, to share the news.

* * *

The heat in the engine room was unbearable. Tali felt the perspiration cascading down her face, felt her body's resistance to fatigue collapsing, but stubbornly continued working. It was a long shot, but if she could apply some of the techniques she'd picked up while serving on the Normandy, if she could call on some of the information she'd gleaned from studying that ship's ingenious design, she might be able to buy them a couple of vital minutes. The necessity of this haphazard improvisation was made very evident by the recent shutdown of Raan's tech drone, which implied that Tali's would soon follow suit, and if that happened, there would be no cooling influence on the drive core.

Raan, who had spent the last few seconds wearily trying to coax another tech drone out of her overtaxed omni-tool, collapsed against the wall behind her, sliding down to a sitting position. Alarmed, their predicament forgotten, Tali went to her. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Too hot…tired," Raan murmured in a way that could only be described as delirious, her head lolling to one side.

"Auntie? Auntie Raan!" Tali rapped lightly at the side of the older woman's visor, feeling panic rising in her chest. The unbearable idea of Raan dying, and bearing the guilt of that death, returned unbidden to her mind, and she pushed it aside. "Stay with me!"

The ship went through a fierce convulsion, the walls rattling ever-louder, and bouts of high-pitched whining joined the hum of the drive core, already frantic and disjointed. Tali knew from the sounds that they didn't have much longer – even a few more minutes seemed an optimistic appraisal.

Koris burst into the room, and Tali turned her head to look at him. He gazed for a second at Raan, but did not ask what had happened, clearly understanding that their situation was even more urgent than before. "She got through," he yelled tersely. "Help's on the way."

"How long?" Tali shouted back.

"Their ship is right on top of us. Let's help Raan up – we need to get to the airlock."

Working together, the two quarian admirals draped their colleague's arms about their respective shoulders, and moved out of the engine room, with Tali's valiant little tech drone staying behind and working on the drive core, as it would until her omni-tool went out of range. The airlock was situated across from the entry ramp, and they stood there now, listening to the unsettling concert of sounds filling the air, the sounds of a ship dying a tumultuous death, waiting for salvation.

* * *

"Look," Grunt said, as he deftly maneuvered the _Kalros _into position alongside the besieged shuttle, nodding out the starboard viewport. "Alliance ship?"

Wrex turned and noted the object that the tank-bred krogan was referring to, a dark blue ship which, indeed, seemed to follow Alliance designs, and bore the insignia of that human organization. It was coming from the direction of Earth, moving toward them, presumably sent from the surface to perform a rescue operation.

"Looks like it," he said aloud, returning his attention to his console. "Little slow on the uptake, but I guess I can't blame 'em. Got their own problems to take care of."

Grunt released a vague sound of assent and made a few swipes on his haptic interface. "Moving our airlock parallel to theirs." A pause, a few more motions of his powerful fingers. "Extending clamp. Thirty seconds."

Wrex, who was watching him work, stood. "Let's hope they have thirty seconds," he mused, not sounding particularly concerned, and then turned to Bont, who was already booting up his omnitool in preparation for any wounds he might be able to treat. "Wanna help me welcome them aboard, doc?"

Bont glared at him. "As if I would be anywhere else," he snapped indignantly, and brushed past, off the bridge, heading for the nearby airlock. Wrex shook his head amusedly and noticed that Grunt was looking up at him.

"Get any idea what kind of alien we're picking up?" the younger krogan asked.

Wrex shook his head again. "Nah. Bad signal. Could have been anything short of an elcor, for all I could tell." He patted his subordinate's shoulder. "Guess I'm off to play host. Don't get into any trouble." Remembering something, he added, "And if that Alliance ship contacts us before I get back, be polite, Grunt."

A bored "Yeah, yeah" was his reply. Satisfied, Wrex moved off to follow Bont.

* * *

Tali and Koris felt the docking tube first, as a great shudder went through the already convulsing ship, and then they heard it, a deep, long mechanical sound that would have been foreboding in any other circumstance. Now, though, it was cause for celebration, and after slapping the airlock control, keying the door to open, Koris allowed himself an exhausted sigh.

"Are you okay?" Tali asked gently, feeling weak herself.

"These have been some of the longest minutes of my life," he replied, craning his head to look at her over the slumped Raan. "But we got through it. Due in no small part to your quick thinking, I imagine."

Tali shook her head as fiercely as she could, fatigued as she was. "I didn't work any miracles. All three of us got through this together."

Koris looked down to regard Raan. "Let's just hope our saviors have a med bay on their ship."

Tali looked at the older woman, her friend, her mentor, her auntie, and fervently hoped just that. Her heart was already sore, and she did not know if it could take another blow, especially one so devastating.

The next few moments went by in a heart-pounding blur. From down the corridor, a loud, violent sound emanated from the engine room, and hot air visibly vented out of it. Tali knew that her tech drone was gone, that there was nothing working to cool the drive core, and that they needed to get away from the ship, fast. The ship rocked as what sounded suspiciously like explosions followed the venting of hot air, but the ship clamped to theirs was apparently considerably larger, and the convulsions were not as bad as they could have been. Just as Tali was beginning to think that they wouldn't get off the shuttle, that they would die on it after all, and felt the hot air rushing past them even through her suit, the airlock snapped open, and the quarians wasted no time, half-jogging up the metal tube, toward the light of the other ship's open airlock.

* * *

Wrex heard the foreboding sounds from the other shuttle as what looked like three beings, obscured by smoke rushing up the docking clamp but clearly humanoid, drew close, and as soon as they were far enough, he turned and spoke into his suit's comm. "Get us out of here, Grunt!"

The tank-bred krogan, who had been watching the wary approach of the Alliance rescue ship, turned hurriedly to his controls. "Got it," he replied. "Are they on board?"

"Yeah," came the curt response.

Grunt nodded to himself and set to work, retracting the _Kalros_'s docking tube and beginning to move the ship away, on a path towards Earth. Evidently alarmed by this, the Alliance vessel hailed them, and with an exasperated snarl, Grunt flicked on the ship's comm. "What?"

A reedy human voice cackled over the speaker. "You responded to the distress call?"

"What does it look like?" Grunt all but shouted, conveniently forgetting Wrex's order to be polite.

There was a silence. Then: "Understood. If the survivors have need of medical attention, you are cleared to land at these coordinates." Data scrolled on Grunt's interface, indicating which landing zone they could use, and then the transmission ended, and the Alliance ship turned about ponderously in space, heading back to Earth.

Confident that everything on his end was taken care of, Grunt stood and trudged off to help receive their alien visitors.

* * *

The quarians burst out of the docking tube onto the _Kalros_ and stood, panting, as the airlock closed behind them. A subtle feeling of movement informed them that the ship was getting a safe distance away from the shuttle. Tali and Koris nodded wordlessly at each other, and gently lowered Raan to the impeccably clean floor.

Before they could so much as get their bearings, a massive hulking being brushed past them and crouched next to Raan, running an omni-tool over her prone form. Tali was very briefly afraid that they were in danger, but then realized that it was a krogan, dressed in blue robes and wearing a holographic interface across his snout, appearing to be in the process of running medical tests.

"Ah," Koris said lamely, reaching the same conclusion. "A doctor. Good." He did not voice what they were both thinking, that they could not quite believe what they were seeing: a krogan doctor, one of the rarer sights in the galaxy.

"Well, I'll be damned," a deep voice rumbled from behind them, and they both jumped. "Out of all the poor, helpless aliens I could've bravely saved today, it just happened to be one of my dearest friends."

A smile irresistibly split Tali's face in two as recognition hit her: she knew that voice, and a warm feeling of companionship swelled up in her, effectively pushing her tiredness to the back of her mind. She turned around. "Wrex!"

And there he was, his arms tossed out to either side in a display of welcome, fangs bared in a massive grin of his own, dark red armor gleaming in the clean lighting of the ship. They both moved in for a hug, which Tali quickly regretted, having forgotten, in her jubilation, that hugging a krogan was no small commitment; as his powerful arms wrapped around her back, she felt her already weak body might break. But it didn't matter, happy as she was to see him.

After a moment Wrex pushed her back to arm's length, and Tali, taking the opportunity to suck some air into her lungs, said, "I can't believe it's you. It's good to see you." Wryly, she added, "I guess I owe you one."

The krogan chuckled. "This one's on the house," he replied. "And anyway, you already owe me for all the other times I've pulled your ass out of the fire."

"Oh?" Tali retorted, crossing her arms. "I seem to remember a _few _situations where I shot some geth off your back in the old days."

"That you did," Wrex said, beaming, his grin, if possible, stretching even wider. It occurred to Tali that anyone unfamiliar with krogan would be terrified by the sight. "Guess I forgot. You're pretty handy with a shotgun." He jabbed a finger at her. "For a quarian."

"Thanks," Tali said dryly.

"Should've known I'd find you out here," Wrex told her, moving past her and extending a hand to Zaal'Koris, who, looking confused, took it, and was promptly enduring a handshake as tight as Tali's hug had been. "What with the news and all. Name's Wrex," he said as an afterthought, addressing the older quarian admiral, and releasing his hand.

"So I heard," Koris replied, nursing that very hand. "I'm Admiral Zaal'Koris. You two know each other, then?"

"You could say that," Wrex said, flashing another grin. "Tore up the galaxy together a few years ago. Killed our fair share of geth. Killed a Reaper. You know how the story goes."

"Ah, so you served with Commander Shepard as well," Koris said. "I thought I remembered reading something to that effect. That would make you the leader of the Krogan Union. What are you doing out here, saving unlucky quarians like ourselves?" He paused. "And you have my sincere thanks for that, by the way."

Wrex waved his hand. "Not a problem," he said. "Us krogan are nice guys. We just get a bad rap."

The krogan doctor, still hunched over Raan, laughed, a short, sarcastic bark. "Ha!" He straightened, getting to his feet, and stomped over to stand next to Wrex. "Only reason this oaf bothered saving you is because he wanted a ticket to Earth."

"Why you gotta come over here and ruin the mood, doc?" Wrex griped, grin still plastered on his face, and regarded the quarians, both of whom were looking from one krogan to the other in confusion. "He's right, though. Some idiot on Earth was giving us a hard time with landing clearance. Bont here saw your ship was in trouble, we realized we had a good excuse to get clearance, and here we are."

"A bad rap, huh, Wrex?" Tali echoed, voice dripping with irony.

The krogan chief shrugged in a _what are you gonna do_ kind of way. "Didn't know it was you," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "Although, like I said, I should have suspected I'd find you here."

"Shepard," Tali said, stepping toward him, and Wrex nodded. "You came to see him?"

"'Course I did," he said, becoming more serious. "Dropped what I was doing and headed out right away. Figured he would have done the same for me." He indicated Bont, who was already stomping menacingly toward Tali, omni-tool activated. "Took a couple friends along with me. This is Urdnot Bont. He's our Medical Researcher. I know, you don't see many krogan doctors, but try not to have an aneurism or something."

"Go ahead," Bont snorted, now absentmindedly running his omni-tool up and down Tali, who stood awkwardly, wringing her hands. "I'll just fix it up."

Wrex roared with laughter, apparently very amused by the repartee. "He ain't lyin', either," he said. "Best doctor in the galaxy. Worked on Illium for a couple centuries. Wrote a lot of research papers, or whatever it is that doctors do." He turned his head toward a nearby door, the sign over which read _Quarters_. "Also brought along a diplomat. Jorgal Finn. I'm sure he'll be out here to talk your ear off soon enough." He turned back and grinned at Tali. "Don't feel like you have to listen to him. All he talks about is krogan 'tradition,' anyway. Kind of a buzz kill."

"Sounds like it," Tali said easily, relieved to see Bont moving off toward Koris, who seemed resigned to his fate and merely stood, letting his arms dangle, to let the krogan better examine him. Wrex laughed again.

"Smart girl," he said, and plodded up to her, rustling the top of her hooded head as he might ruffle a person's hair, a distinctly human habit. "I remember why I liked you now."

"So a doctor and a diplomat, huh?" Tali asked, looking around at their surroundings. "What did you bring them along for? And is this _your _ship? I didn't think you had a ship."

"Impressive, isn't she?" Wrex patted the nearby wall affectionately. "Not a krogan build, of course. Can't remember the last time I saw a krogan-made ship. This one's turian. Primarch Victus gave it to me during the war." Another grin. "Call her the _Kalros_. Shepard might've mentioned something about a thresher maw taking down a Reaper…"

Tali brightened at the memory, how Shepard had sat with her in the Normandy's lounge, their chairs drawn close together, idly running their fingers down one another's arms, and enthusiastically told her the story, eyes bright and expressive, so full of hope. "The mother of all thresher maws," she said quietly, echoing the phrase he'd shared with her.

"You got it," Wrex confirmed with a nod. "As for why I brought along the others, well – the doctor is self-explanatory. Figure he can help fix up that crazy son of a bitch you call a boyfriend. The diplomat, Finn – let's just say it wasn't my choice to bring him along." He scowled. "I hate politics."

"Aren't you forgetting someone?"

Wrex and Tali turned toward the source of the new voice, and saw Grunt, stomping purposely toward them, wearing a grin similar to Wrex's but markedly more youthful and exuberant, as was the pace of his stride. "Thought I smelled quarian," the tank-bred krogan said, opening his arms wide, and Tali braced herself for another hug, but was relieved to see them fall back to his sides almost immediately. "Been a long time, Tali."

"Forgot that you two knew each other," Wrex said, nodding to Grunt.

"Good to see you, Grunt," Tali said sincerely. "Lost track of you after the battle on Earth. Glad to see you're okay."

"Right back at you," Grunt replied, punching her shoulder in what was clearly a playful way but sending her back a couple of steps regardless. "Then again, after watching you fight on the Collector Base, I would've been surprised if a little maintenance problem took you out." He shrugged. "What were you doing flying that piece of scrap, anyway?"

Tali opened her mouth, ready to tell them about how it was the only ship she could have used fast enough, how she wasn't willing to wait for a safer ship because she was so desperate to get to Shepard, but chose instead to say, "Long story. Like Koris said…" she looked from one krogan to the other. "Thank you. Another minute and we would have been – "

"Poof!" Grunt exclaimed, putting his fingers close together and then drawing them apart, as though to indicate an explosion.

Tali smiled a little. "Yeah. Poof."

And then, suddenly, she remembered that not everyone was well enough to enjoy this reunion with friends, and she squeezed past the others, jogging up to Raan and dropping to her knees beside her. A shadow soon loomed over her, and Wrex's voice said, "Friend of yours?"

Tali nodded, placing a hand on Raan's wrist, feeling for her pulse, which to her relief was steady. "My auntie Raan," she explained quietly.

"Family?" Wrex asked, sounding surprised.

"Not exactly," Tali told him. "But she might as well be."

Wrex nodded in understanding. Urdnot Bont walked up, with Koris in tow, and joined Tali in kneeling next to the prone quarian. "She'll be fine," the krogan doctor said. "Nothing wrong with her. She's just exhausted. Dehydrated. I know how to fix that without risking infection, don't worry." He turned to Grunt. "Take her to the infirmary."

"Let me," Tali said before the tank-bred krogan could comply, and looked meaningfully at Bont. "I'll do it."

"As will I," Koris piped up, stepping forward.

Grunt looked bemused. "It would be easier for me to do it. I won't drop her or anything."

"It's not that," Tali assured him. "I just…"

"You don't have to explain," Wrex interrupted her, and Tali felt grateful that he was there, and knew her well enough to understand. "Bont, you wanna show 'em to the infirmary?"

Bont nodded, and once the quarians had managed to lift their weakened friend, he led them down the corridors of the _Kalros_.

* * *

Toral Noverius was gazing out the air control tower windows at his dark city, London at night, with so few lit windows and streets that it appeared only half alive, when his console beeped. He flicked the comm switch.

"London Metropolitan Docking Authority."

"Yes, this is Lieutenant Wellington," a familiar reedy voice replied, and Toral accurately attributed it to the Alliance official who had responded to his earlier emergency call, made after he picked up the quarian distress signal.

"Lieutenant!" Toral replied, straightening in his chair and unconsciously adjusting his headset, prepared for his moment to shine. While it was the crew on Wellington's ship that had gone up to save the quarians, it was he, Toral Noverius, who had made the call, efficiently and by the book. "Did you get those people out okay?"

Wellington sniffed. "A couple of krogan got there first," he replied, and Toral blinked in surprise. Krogan? Saving people? "Good thing, too. Shuttle blew up a few seconds after the quarians got on their ship. We'd have been too late." Data streamed on to Toral's console. "Be advised: we've given them clearance to land here." And then the call was cut off.

The turian stared for a long moment at that new data, trying to absorb what had just happened, and suddenly felt very foolish. The inhabitants of the _Kalros_, whom he had suspected of malicious intent, could not be so bad if they had gone out of their way to save a civilian shuttle.

Why did the turians dislike the krogan, again?

More importantly, why did _he_?

His headset slipped. This time, Toral did not adjust it, but tossed it on to the table in front of him. His conviction about the krogan had been wrong. Maybe it was time to question his conviction about using a human headset.

Toral Noverius stood, adjusted his suit, and strode off to have a talk with his boss.

* * *

Everything in the infirmary was a sterile white, from the beds to the walls to the various medical computers. Raan lay on one of those beds now, with Tali and Koris standing nearby, gazing wordlessly down at her. Bont had left not long before, informing them that they should simply let the woman rest, and that she was already in much better shape thanks to the less violent climate of the _Kalros_, which, combined with her suit's environmental controls, was helping her body cool down.

Even though Raan had assured her otherwise, Tali still knew that the entire predicament had been of her making. The fact remained that if she had been able to exercise a little patience, they could have traveled to Earth without any near-death experiences. The guilt this knowledge brought, along with her fatigue – which was hitting her now with merciless ferocity – left her feeling as though her legs might give way at any moment.

"You mustn't blame yourself, Tali," Koris's words, spoken softly, seemed monstrously loud in the silence. Tali, stunned once more by his unexpectedly accurate reading of her emotional state, looked at him, ready to voice hollow protests, to tell him that she was fine when she knew perfectly well that it wasn't true, but he simply let his hand fall on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "We knew what we were getting ourselves into. Despite a few…complications, we got out none the worse for the wear. Don't bide on this."

Tali looked back down at Raan and tried to believe him, but just as her auntie's similar assurances ultimately gave her little comfort, his words weren't much help. "Thanks," she said anyway.

The hand that had squeezed her shoulder now gave it a pat. "You should get some sleep before we land. Even a short nap would be good."

Before she could so much as consider this idea, Wrex's voice cackled over the ship's intercom system. "_We're about to land in London. Nice view, if you wanna take a look_."

A fire lit in Tali. London. They had reached Earth. Despite everything, they had finally arrived, and now she was close, so close, to him.

Sensing this new energy, and realizing that sleep was now the last thing on Tali's mind, Koris nodded at her. "After you," he said wearily, and followed her out of the infirmary.

They found their three krogan friends on the bridge, as well as a fourth they hadn't met, and Tali remembered Wrex's mention of Jorgal Finn, the diplomat. He was the first to acknowledge their arrival, spinning around as soon as he heard them, and moving to intercept them with the slow, calculating approach of a predator.

"I am Jorgal Finn," he declared. "Representative of clan Jorgal, voice of the _true _kroganwarrior." He let that phrase hang challengingly in the air, as though to see if anyone would take the bait.

"I am Admiral Zaal'Koris," Koris said, extending a hand. "As I have to your comrades, let me extend my thanks for – "

"Your gratitude is wasted on me, quarian," Finn interrupted him, pointedly ignoring the proffered hand. "I am proud to say that I argued _against _saving your shuttle."

Koris's hand fell and his voice adopted a wary tone. "Indeed?"

"Indeed," Finn affirmed, planting his hands on his hips. "In this galaxy, only the strong should survive. Charity cases have no place."

Tali cringed. Saying such things to Zaal'Koris was guaranteed to start a long debate. The quarian admiral never got a chance to form a rebuttal, however, as Wrex suddenly stomped up and headbutted Finn, leaving the diplomat snarling in surprise and clutching his head.

"I'll have you know that _that _quarian – " Wrex indicated Tali. " – was fighting against the Reapers while you were still sitting on Tuchanka squabbling over females. Disrespect her again, and we're going to have problems."

Finn glowered at his nemesis, but did not persist, instead opting for a _harrumph _and moving off to one of the computers lining the bridge. Wrex watched him for a moment longer, and then turned his attention to Tali and Koris, smiling and beckoning them to follow him.

"Turns out saving your sorry asses was an easy ticket in, after all," he said cheerfully, stopping in front of the fore viewport. "Got the best landing zone in the city. Shouldn't be a long trek to Shepard's hospital."

Tali gasped slightly as the _Kalros _hewed a path through the clouds of Earth's night sky and then emerged over London, the sight of which gave her both happiness and despair; the city was obviously much better off than it had been nearly a month prior, with signs of construction everywhere and electric lights in some abundance, indicative of life, but there were memories there, too, many memories, none of them pleasant, and they were all coming back to her in flashes - fighting through hordes of Reaper ground troops, hearing the screams of the falling and the fallen, the chilling horn of the Reaper destroyers as they decimated everything before them, and then the memory she dreaded most, the one where he faded further and further from sight

_Build a home _

until that red beam flashed and left her screaming, helplessly, inside –

"Tali?"

She blinked and looked around her. The ship was no longer moving, and a glance out the viewport confirmed that they had landed, were safely on the surface, and she understood that she had fallen into her memories so deeply that she'd lost track of reality.

Wrex was standing next to her, looking concerned, with Koris hovering worriedly over his shoulder. "You still with us?" The krogan asked.

Tali inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, willing the unpleasant thoughts away, and focused instead on the hope that was now warming her heart, making it beat a little faster in her chest, making her stomach feel light. _He's close_. "Yes," she answered firmly. "I'm fine. I was just thinking."

Wrex's eyes flitted in the direction of the dark city, and he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Lots of memories. Lots to think about."

"It's looking a lot better," Tali said softly, also looking out the viewport.

"Of course it is," Wrex growled. "We're rebuilding. All of us are. A lot of people died, but the Reapers didn't break us." He slapped his fist into an open palm. "We came out of this stronger. The whole galaxy. You came out of this stronger, Tali. And Shepard is gonna come out of it stronger, too."

Tired and spent as she was, her tears of gratitude came all too easily. Tali nodded. "Thank you, Wrex," she said, and then joined him in walking down the _Kalros_'s entry ramp, down onto the landing pad, where they boarded the land vehicle which was waiting to take them to their destination, while Koris stayed behind to keep an eye on Raan.

All Tali heard, throughout the trip, was her own heartbeat.

* * *

By the time they reached Nathan Levitt Medical Center, Tali's impatience had reached its zenith, her hands endlessly wringing, foot tapping against the floor of their vehicle, and she was glad that everyone else had been too busy taking in the sights of the repaired city to bother starting any conversations.

As soon as she was able, she flung her door open and lunged out on to the pitted and charred sidewalk. She was dimly aware of the unusually high concentration of Alliance soldiers standing all around them but thought little of it. The krogan clambered out after her, with Wrex wincing and stretching his arms, clearly unhappy with the tight quarters of the human-designed vehicle. "What's with all the soldiers?" He muttered quietly, eyes scanning the area.

"Here to protect Shepard, maybe?" Grunt offered.

"_Protect _him?" Wrex echoed skeptically. "He's a goddamn war hero. Anyways, everyone's too busy picking up the pieces of their own life to bother taking someone else's."

Grunt shrugged. "Just a theory. Now let's get moving before Tali – " He looked around quizzically. "Where _is _Tali, anyway?"

Wrex's sharp eyes picked up motion near the hospital entrance, up the steps from where they stood, and saw the door closing as though someone had just gone in. "Got tired of waiting for us," he chuckled. "Come on."

And indeed, when the rest of the group entered the hospital, they found Tali, but to Wrex and Grunt's great and simultaneous pleasure, they found much more than that – for standing in a cluster in the lobby, the young quarian girl in their midst, were many familiar faces - Garrus, Liara, Javik, Kaidan, Vega, Miranda, and Jacob Taylor.

Upon noticing the approaching krogan, Garrus looked up from his conversation with Tali and gave a wave. "Who the hell let you in here?" He called out good-naturedly.

"It's a sad day when reprobates like you are allowed to stroll into any old hospital they want," Wrex roared, and then he and the turian were heartily slapping their hands together in a strong handshake (eliciting a disapproving shake of Jorgal Finn's head), both of them laughing and grinning. "How the hell have you been, Vakarian?"

"Keeping busy," Garrus said, rolling his neck about, and Wrex noted that he was wearing a blue civilian uniform instead of his usual armor. "The Primarch has me going all over turian space, doing this and that to help with reconstruction." He paused. "Almost makes me wish I had more Reapers to kill."

Wrex chortled. "You and me both," he agreed. "Fighting for peace is fun and all, but winning is overrated. Too much paperwork."

"Smells like manliness and testosterone over here," Liara announced, wrinkling her nose in mock distaste, walking up to join in the reunion, with the others trailing behind, all engaged in their own conversations. She was dressed in a casual white dress, which, while unassuming, still did nothing to diminish her asari beauty, and only made the vibrant glow of her blue skin even more evident.

"Liara!" Wrex thundered, moving in for a hug as Grunt brushed past him to shake hands and chat with Jacob, while Bont, having spotted the prothean in the group, honed in on him, omni-tool activated. Liara reciprocated the hug, not giving so much as a wince at his mighty squeeze, and Tali, distractedly watching it all, wondered if the asari had used some minor biotics to shield herself. "What, are you guys having a party here or something? I didn't get an invitation."

Extracting herself from the embrace, Liara smiled up at her krogan friend. "We figured you'd show up anyway. Crashing the party is kind of your thing."

Wrex laughed with such gusto that the nurses stationed at the reception desk whipped their heads about in alarm. "Guess you've got me there," he conceded, and nodded at Kaidan, who was watching the exchange with amusement. "Been too long, Kaidan."

"You're right," the second human Specter agreed, and the two shook hands. "Heard you're still pissing off every krogan on Tuchanka."

"You heard right," Wrex told him, and glanced over his shoulder at Jorgal Finn, who was hovering imperiously nearby, apparently feeling that the niceties taking place were below him. "Even got my own nemesis." He turned back, grinning, to Kaidan. "Doesn't matter, though. The krogan are evolving, old friend. If the Reapers couldn't stop that, then a couple blowhards sure as hell won't."

Javik chose that moment to approach, and, looking perturbed, he addressed Wrex. "You are the leader of the krogan, yes?" When he was met with a nod, he pressed on. "Then tell your subject to stop running his tests on me. It is…vexing."

Bont, still stalking him, piped up from over the prothean's shoulder. "Might as well ask the sun to stop shining," he rumbled mildly.

Ignoring this conflict, Wrex said, "You're Javik, right? Watched you in action on Tuchanka, with Shepard. Hell of a fighter."

He was surprised as the prothean extended one of his hands, having learned, during his brief stint on the Normandy during the war, that the alien was not prone to such acts of kinship, thinking himself above everyone else. Shaking that surprise off, he accepted the handshake with a friendly nod, which, to his increasing disbelief, was also reflected. "I am honored to hear such praise from a warrior of your worth," Javik replied.

"Yeah," Wrex said lamely, unable to think of anything else, and Liara's subtle grin did not escape his notice, as well as the almost fond way she looked at Javik. "Good to see you."

Grunt strolled up to the small group, one arm slung around Jacob's shoulder, and Miranda trailing close behind. "One surprise after another," the tank-bred krogan commented to his superior, smiling around at everyone. "I expected we'd see all of you here eventually, but not all at once. And you even beat us to the punch."

"Grunt!" Garrus said, striding up to him and exchanging a firm handshake in the same vein as the one he had earlier shared with Wrex. "Thought I noticed you walking in, but it was hard to see anything past his fat ass." He gestured vaguely in Wrex's direction. Grunt guffawed.

"Watch it, Vakarian," Wrex warned dryly, eye twinkling. "Don't wanna piss off the grand leader of the Krogan Union. Gonna start another interstellar incident."

"I'm a little surprised," Jacob Taylor said, looking around at the group. "With the way the krogan are helping out here on Earth, I thought you guys would be the first to arrive."

Wrex shrugged. "I left plenty of people here to help rebuild, but we have our own planet to fix, too. All of us were on Tuchanka when we heard the news."

"That Shepard is alive," Liara said, stating what everyone already understood, a simple, happy smile lighting up her face. Wrex nodded.

"That isn't 'news' at all," Garrus said, crossing his arms, and glanced to his side as James Vega stepped up beside him. "I could've told you that weeks ago. Remember the _last _time he died?"

"Yeah, Garrus, the last time he died, he _died_," Vega retorted, cocking his brow.

"You get the idea," Garrus said, as several members of the group laughed quietly. "Shepard beat death once. He's next to invincible." He waved a hand dismissively. "Reapers? Bah. Child's play."

"He _is _remarkably resilient," Miranda commented. She looked better than any of them had seen since first making her acquaintance, with a healthy glow to her skin, her hair vibrant even in the dim lighting of the hospital lobby, and appearing markedly less stressful; there was a relaxedness to her posture, now, which she had once lacked, constantly pursued as she had been. "Somehow, when he was presumed dead, it just didn't feel right."

"Yeah," Kaidan said. "I had this feeling in my gut. 'Couldn't be,' I said. After all that fighting, to just _die_ at the end? Didn't sound right."

"Speakin' of which," Wrex said, looking about at all the gathered friends. "What are we waiting for? Let's go pay that invincible bastard a visit."

And as one, they moved to head out, only to see that there was an obstacle, and Tali was already grappling with it.

* * *

While her old friends were all getting caught up, Tali had been in her own world, heart fluttering in her chest, stomach flipping and feeling unnaturally light, making her unsure if she was feeling hope or nausea or some unnerving combination of the two. After a moment of watching the reunion, she had moved off almost unconsciously, looking all around the lobby, trying to determine where _he_ might be. Finally she had moved to the reception desk and asked where Commander Shepard was; the nurse had launched into a long explanation of the situation, but all the quarian woman heard was _Room 34B_, on the second floor, and she had drifted off again, heading toward the nearby stairs.

The two Alliance soldiers flanking those stairs did not seem of any consequence until she drew close and they responsively stepped together to block her path. Vaguely annoyed, Tali stepped first to one side and then to the other, wringing her hands. "Excuse me," she said distractedly, "just need to get to the second floor – excuse me – "

One of the soldiers shook his helmeted head. "Sorry, ma'am, you can't."

Tali stared for a long, uncomprehending moment at him, unable to believe her auditory emulators. Had she heard right? After so many sleepless nights, after nearly losing a very dear friend during the trip to Earth, this human was standing in her way? What gave him the _right _to stop her from going to the man she loved? "I don't think you understand," she said at last, tone hardening. "I'm here to visit Commander Shepard. I'm – I'm a friend of his."

"I understand, ma'am," the soldier said. "I still can't let you through. Orders," he added after a moment, as though to soften the blow.

"_Orders_?" Tali echoed incredulously, and suddenly all of her hope, all of her guilt, all of her frustration, all of her fatigue, all of her heartbreak, were flooding through her, breaking her fragile composure, making her voice quaver with emotion. "I don't give a _damn _about your _orders_, you – _boshtet!_" She moved forward, trying to grapple her way past the soldiers, both of whom remained unyielding, stubbornly barring her entry but doing no more than that. After a few more seconds of this irrational, futile effort, Tali stumbled back a couple paces and then fell to her knees, feeling tired, so very tired. "I need…to see him," she mumbled, a single tear falling down her cheek. "Please…let me through."

"What's going on?" Garrus's voice cut sharply through the air, and then he was gently grabbing under Tali's arms, lifting her to her feet; Liara took hold of her, gently hugging the exhausted quarian. Garrus turned his attention to the Alliance soldiers, immovable, looking for all the world like ageless sculptures guarding the stairwell. "Why are you blocking the stairs?"

"Orders," a soldier said, and this time, there was some empathy in his voice, but that did little to ease frustrations.

"We're Commander Shepard's close friends," Garrus explained, trying to keep his voice level, but the anger was seeping through nonetheless. "His crew. We fought with him through the war. We want to visit our friend. We're not here to hurt him."

"Understood," one of the soldiers said, and didn't move.

Wrex, whose patience was wearing thin, snapped, and he stomped forward, brushing past Garrus, to jam his face up against one of the soldiers' helmets. "You're not gonna stop us," he growled. "So just step aside."

There was a silence, as though the soldiers were weighing their options – after all, there was not just one krogan in this group – but then one said, apologetically, "Look, I'd love to let you through, but we have orders not to let anyone past until we're told – "

"To stand down," a familiar, gravelly voice finished the sentence, emanating from the dim stairwell behind the soldiers, and the group of friends turned their attention there. A figure was approaching, descending one step and then another, and then walking up behind those soldiers until the lighting of the lobby lit up his features. Liara gasped.

"Admiral Hackett!" she said.

The aging human nodded at her solemnly, and let his eyes roam over the assembled group, making them all feel as though he were reading their intentions, and for a moment he did nothing, just stood there, hands clasped behind his back, clad in his usual blue uniform and hat. Finally he turned his gaze to the Alliance guards. "Stand down."

The soldiers gladly obeyed, clearly not relishing the idea of fighting off a determined krogan, and stepped aside. Hackett took advantage of the opening and stepped forward, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Wondered how long it would take for all of you to show up. I'm glad to say I underestimated you."

"It's good to see you, Admiral," Garrus said, the frustration gone from his voice, replaced by bafflement. "But why the guards?"

Hackett looked up thoughtfully at the turian for a moment and then regarded the group as a whole. "How did all of you hear about Shepard?"

The friends all exchanged bemused glances, and Liara finally said, "The newscasts. Three or four days ago."

Hackett nodded. "As I thought. You all heard the newscasts. All of Shepard's closest friends. But you aren't the only ones. A lot of people did." He looked meaningfully at each of them in turn. "You're just the first to arrive."

"Okay," Garrus said, crossing his arms. "So there's gonna be some visitors. I still don't get why you'd want to block them."

"I'm surprised at you, Garrus," Hackett said without a hint of malice in his voice, which remained grave. "Of course you know why we need to control access. Whether he wants it or not, Commander Shepard has a sort of celebrity status. There will be hundreds, if not thousands, of beings queuing up at this hospital soon to get a glimpse at him, or in a lot of cases, get an interview with him." He shook his head. "We tried to keep this quiet, at least until the Commander is in better shape, but it was impossible to appeal to the good nature of every witness who saw him before he got here. Of course a few blabbed to the media. We had to contain the situation."

" 'In better shape?'" Tali echoed weakly, nodding at Liara to indicate that she was able to stand, and then walking closer to the admiral. "So…he's alive. It's really true."

Hackett's eyes stared at her piercingly. Then: "Yes. He's alive."

Tali was unable to contain a short, relieved sob, and then she was being hugged by Garrus, and everyone seemed to be releasing a collective sigh of relief, with several pats on the back and handshakes being had. After letting this proceed for a time, Hackett raised a hand.

"He's alive," he repeated, "but I won't lie to you, he's in bad shape. The doctors say he was lying lord knows where for a couple of weeks, at least, before he was found. With the injuries he sustained, and the lack of food and water, it's only thanks to his cybernetic implants that he didn't die. If Cerberus ever did one good thing, it was giving him those implants.

"The doctors have been working on him non-stop for days. He'll live, as far as they can tell, but it's not gonna be an easy ride. He's been in some kind of delirious mental state ever since he got here. I was just up there to see him myself, and…" he trailed off, eyes darkening slightly. "It's not pretty."

Wrex looked from one side to the other, taking in the expressions of all his friends, and then looked at Hackett. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that doesn't matter, Admiral," he said, and the nods of all assembled supported him. "We need to see him."

"Please," Tali whispered. "Let me through."

It was her that Hackett stared at, face unreadable, as he seemed to weigh the logic of the situation, but finally he responded, not with words but with a simple, firm nod, and then he continued walking, further into the lobby, giving them privacy.

"Thank you, Admiral," Liara said quietly.

Anticipation on their faces, the krogan began stomping to the stairwell, but Garrus's arm thrust out in front of them. Wrex looked at his turian friend, baffled, but any complaints were silenced by the look on his face, and the subtle shake of his head. Garrus turned to Tali.

"Go on," he said gently. "We'll go up in a few minutes."

Understanding what he was doing, Wrex nodded, a smile on his face, and was joined in this by all of the others. Tali looked around at them, feeling choked up, and managed a nod that communicated her thanks better than any words ever could, and then she took her first step into the stairwell.

* * *

Tali felt strange.

As she ascended the stairs, trudging from one to the other, she could not assign a name to her emotions. She felt hopeful enough to toss her fatigue aside and dash up the stairs, but she felt dread enough that she wanted nothing more than to run back to the definite and the familiar; she felt relieved that she was finally going to see him, but she was horrified that she would find something unexpected, that he didn't love her anymore, or maybe that she didn't love _him _anymore, or maybe that he didn't even _recognize_ her anymore –

_Build a home_

She was there again, in the shuttle bay of the Normandy, his hand slipping from the side of her mask, the gleaming beautiful eyes on his grimy and bloodied face fading ever more out of view until that red beam, that blasted red beam, made her scream, not with her mouth but more tormented still, _inside_, in her heart and soul –

_Build a home_

She was finished climbing the stairs and was now walking – or was she drifting, she couldn't feel her legs, couldn't feel anything, actually, beyond the blood pulsing through her veins, couldn't hear anything but the loud heartbeat in her ears, the short, anxious breaths softly coming from her mouth – down the stainless corridor, toward his room, and it was so dark, just like London had been weeks ago, but now there was light, in the hospital and in the city, and she was going to see him again – but what if he was dead after all? What if, after all of this, she got to him, and he had passed in his sleep, before she could see him, before she could talk to him, before she could know if there was still something there, if she still had a reason to live, not just live, going from day to day in some routine, but _live_, with love and happiness in her heart?

There it was.

Tali's breath caught in her throat as she drifted, and she must certainly be drifting because she certainly wasn't walking, not without legs, to the window that looked in towards him, in at him, and she had to blink several times to clear her vision, inexplicably blurring, to make out the shapes she was seeing.

_Shepard_

The tears began to flow then, as she saw him, lying in his hospital bed, blankets drawn up to his chest but leaving his arms exposed, leaving the wires and tubes injected all along his torso exposed, as she saw his chest rhythmically rising and falling, as she saw his face, scarred but clean, looking up to the ceiling, eyes closed in sleep, and then she clutched at her chest as though to fight the pain that suddenly wracked it as she realized his expression was one of agony, brow scrunched, lips working, teeth periodically gritting, and she knew that she, at least, still loved _him, _that for her, at least, nothing had changed.

_Alive_

Her hand was trembling uncontrollably as she opened the door and stepped in but she did not notice, did not notice that she was crying softly, was hardly even aware that her tears were still falling, and then she was standing beside his bed, close enough to touch him, and she reached out with her fingers, still shaking, and stroked his cheek, and she became aware of her tears, but did not fight them, because they were tears not of sadness, not of heartbreak, but of happiness.

* * *

Commander Shepard's world was hot, so hot, and he wished for death. Pain was all he knew now, because there was nothing to fight it, because he had forgotten that face, the face that had got him through it all, the face that made him fight, and with every passing moment he feared that he could feel even more of himself slipping away. He still saw the ghosts, interminably, every second of the day, but there were horrifying moments where he could not identify the ghosts, did not understand why he was seeing them or the significance of what they were saying.

_I tried, Shepard_

_ It is a good end to a life_

_ Would have liked to have run tests on the seashells_

_ Do the geth deserve to die_

The voices became so loud that Shepard was only able to scream out, begging them to stop, begging for death to take him, because he could not even tell if his screams were real or just as ethereal as the figures that filled his delirium, and that was not living at all. Why had he fought in the first place? Why didn't he just _die?_

Silence.

The voices stopped.

Shepard smiled, disbelieving but thankful, so thankful, feeling some semblance of sanity return to him, clinging to this unexpected island of calm in the sea of chaos that was his world, and then he gasped, his breath shuddering as he inhaled, because he felt something, not something painful or unwelcome, like everything had been for the last eternity, but something that made him want to laugh and cry all at once.

Fingers, soft fingers, stroking his cheek.

_Come back to me_

Commander Shepard opened his eyes.

* * *

They stared at each other for a moment, for an hour, for a thousand years, saw nothing but each other.

"You came back to me," she whispered, voice weak but filled with something warm, not love but some unidentifiable thing that transcended it, an amalgamation of every kind of joy that ever was.

And though he said nothing, was too weak to say anything, was too weak to even smile, his eyes said everything that had to be said, and then his warm, strong, shaking hand reached up and grasped her small, cool shaking hand, and the shaking stopped.

Commander Shepard saw black, only black.

But this time, his mind knew only of her.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Some of you might have noticed that this chapter took a little longer to post than the previous ones. The rest of them will also be spaced roughly a week apart, but they will get done. Thanks for reading.

True to their word, the assorted former members of the Normandy crew waited several minutes before following in Tali's footsteps, climbing the stairs to the hospital's second floor and, with not a single word being exchanged, going to the Commander's room. They chose not to enter, however, upon seeing that their presence would be a disturbance – both Tali and Shepard were fast asleep, the quarian having pulled a chair up close to the bed, her head resting against his chest, both hands clasped around one of his, finally dropping the guards she had built up against all of her accumulated fatigue. None of them had the heart to interrupt such a scene (except, perhaps, for Javik, who moved to open the door only to have Liara slap his fingers away), and with long, lingering gazes at their injured friend, feeling content just to see him with their own eyes, they all shuffled back down the corridor.

Nobody in the group was willing to leave the hospital, not for the night and not for a moment, and so they set up camp on and around the chairs of the lobby. The nurses behind the reception desk gave them disapproving glances, but said nothing, and when Garrus wryly observed this, Liara speculated, accurately, that Hackett had ensured that they were given freedom to do as they pleased.

Idle conversation soon gave way to the rhythmic breathing of sleep. Wrex, Grunt, and Bont (all of whom snored with varying severity) had claimed one corner of the lobby, chairs pulled together to create a makeshift bed, and Garrus sat on the floor nearby, propped against the chairs nearest Wrex; Liara and Miranda had set up their appropriated chairs in the opposite corner, and while Miranda was braced against the wall, hands folded contentedly on her stomach, Liara laid next to her, on her side; Javik sat upright in a chair next to the asari, his four eyes closed; and the assorted others had set up haphazard, individual sleeping surfaces in the area between those two corners. All things considered, their temporary home in the hospital lobby was a cozy affair, and the perpetually faint lighting made sleep irresistibly inviting.

* * *

As daylight began to trickle into the windows, Kaidan Alenko was the first to awaken. He had taken off his light Specter armor, leaving only a white t-shirt and his dark pants. After standing, looking around at his slumbering friends with a small smile, and doing some stretching, he trekked off, out of the lobby, realizing that he was very hungry and hoping that there was a cafeteria in the building.

To his relief, there was indeed a cafeteria, and the alluring odors of breakfast being prepared left his stomach growling and his mind slipping into fond memories of waking up in his Vancouver home to similar scents, with the accompanying sounds of his parents bantering in the kitchen. As it always did when he recollected those days, sadness briefly ached in his heart, but it was unable to linger for very long, as Kaidan spotted James Vega sitting at one of the cafeteria's long tables.

"James!" He hailed, waving a hand and walking toward the musclebound N7 operative. "Didn't notice you were up."

Vega's eyes were fixed unseeingly on the tray of food before him, thick fingers wrapped around a fork but not making use of it, and his heard jerked up as though he'd been shocked at the sound of his friend's voice. "Hey, Kaidan," he said, gathering himself, and letting a smile form on his lips. "How you liking our five-star accommodations?"

Kaidan laughed and settled into the chair across from Vega's. "Five stars might be pushing it. Still, for a hospital, it's pretty quiet. Slept well. As for the chairs…" he grimaced. "Well, I guess they could be worse."

"Yeah, if they were covered with spikes, maybe." Vega ventured a forkful of food into his mouth, and his face twisted into an expression of disgust. "Shit, man, this tastes like paper."

"That bad?" Kaidan sounded surprised. "Smelled so good as I was walking in. What is it?"

Vega glanced down into his tray and shrugged. "Some kind of egg paste. I don't even know. If you're hungry enough, you might like it. Maybe I've just been spoiled by too much home cooking."

Kaidan grinned. "Seems like every time I talk to you, you find an excuse to mention your _abuela_'s cooking."

"'S'cuz it was the _bomb_," Vega told him earnestly, a light coming into his eyes, normally dull and closed, as though he were constantly on guard, always focusing his energies on some internal matter. "Shecould _take _paper and make it taste good. I kid you not." He jabbed his fork in the Specter's direction. "Someday, you're having a meal with the Vega family. You'll never eat the same way again."

"Should I be excited or scared?" Kaidan asked sardonically. Vega responded with a snort, now using his fork to maul the food on his tray, as though in punishment for disgracing his taste buds. After watching this for a moment, Kaidan turned his head, looking out the large windows lining the cafeteria's wall, which revealed a pleasing view of a well-gardened courtyard, complete with occupied birdbaths and fountains which had once, no doubt, sprayed beautiful geysers of water. It was on the birds that his eyes dwindled.

"Wasn't long ago we were sitting like this in the Normandy's bar," he said quietly. "Telling each other stories about the Commander. About all the good times we'd shared, all the intense fighting. Remembering him." He sighed. "Hard to believe, now."

Dropping his fork, Vega pushed his tray aside and rested his arms on the table, leaning forward. He followed Kaidan's line of sight and joined him in observing the birds. "That was rough," he said. "Thinking he was dead. Didn't know any better. I know all of us were holding out on hope, deep down or whatever, but we just didn't know. Couldn't know." He glanced sidelong at his friend. "Must've been especially rough for you. You got to mourn him twice."

"And both times, turned out he wasn't dead, after all." Kaidan released a shuddering sigh and turned back to Vega. "Guess I should be happy about that." He paused. "I _am _happy about that. But sometimes, I just wanna _deck him_, y'know?" A soft chuckle. "Tell him to stop messing with us. Make up his mind. 'Are you dead, or alive?'"

Vega laughed. "Man knows how to keep the world guessing, that's for sure."

"Mmm." Kaidan shook his head. "And then when he came back the first time, I thought he was with Cerberus. I mean, he _was_, but like, I thought he was really _with them_. You remember how we were on Mars. Turned out I was wrong then, too." Another chuckle, but this time it seemed sad. "Keeping us guessing."

Vega smiled, but his eyes betrayed some concern. "Yeah. You okay, man?"

Kaidan appraised him at length. "Yeah," he finally said. "I guess I'm still just having a hard time processing all of this. Spent the past few weeks dealing with his death. Again. Finding some kind of peace in it. Knowing what hedid. What he _died _for. He would have been content. Happy to do it. Playing the hero like no one else can." He smiled, but it quickly faded. "Kind of like having a healed wound torn open again. I can only _imagine _what Tali must be going through."

"Who, Sparks?" Vega scoffed lightly, using the nickname he had assigned to Tali. "Ain't going through nothing but _dreams_, right now. Looked pretty happy to me."

Kaidan's smile returned at the recent memory, of how she had looked, snuggled up to Shepard, how it had made him happy for both of them. "Yeah. She did." He looked down at his hands. "But you didn't talk to her like I did. After the battle on Earth. Don't know her like I do. Not accusing you of anything," he added, and Vega just nodded affably, urging him to go on, showing that he wasn't upset. "I've just known her for longer. Learned to read her body language. Hear the emotions in her voice. She was…she was _crushed, _James. I mean completely devastated. I was really worried about her. Felt guilty dropping her off on Rannoch. I know that she was like the rest of us, trying to cope with her loss, and then, just as the wound is healing – _bam_. Open it up again."

Vega nodded slowly, absorbing his friend's comments, rubbing his hands together pensively. "You're probably right, _mano. _It probably did feel like that. But, honestly?" He shrugged. "I don't think anybody here wishes things were different. Y'know? Like, this is one wound we _wanted _reopened. Nobody said the transition would be easy. I mean, was it easy the first time you thought he was dead, then saw him again?"

Kaidan grinned. "_Definitely _not."

"Right. And you got through it, no?"

"I see where you're going with this," Kaidan laughed. "You're right. I did get through it. We all did."

"And you will again," Vega said. "This is the 'happily-ever-after,' Kaidan. War's over, we're alive, the Commander's alive, and now we're all gonna retire to our own private tropical islands and spend the rest of our lives drinking tequilas."

"Don't lie to me, James," Kaidan said jokingly. "You're _never _going to retire."

"'Ey, I'm not the one serving in the Alliance _and _working as a Specter," Vega countered, leaning back and raising his hands disarmingly, and then, chortling, resting his elbows back on the table. "You're right, though. I get the impression that neither of us are looking to retire just yet."

"Would you have it any other way, Lieutenant?" Kaidan asked, cocking his brow.

"Nah. I guess not." Vega nodded across the table. "You?"

Kaidan Alenko considered that question for a long moment, wondering if he would, in fact, have it any other way, if he would be able to find any happiness by dropping it all - his Specter duties, his Alliance career, his life of service and fighting. He was not surprised when the answer came to him, clear and strong, without a single underlying doubt.

"No," he replied. "I wouldn't."

And then he stood and got some breakfast.

It tasted like paper.

* * *

She was there again, running, her feet, so tired and aching, churning up the wet soil beneath, breath coming out in ragged pants, fogging her visor, sweat running down her face in torrents. Her auditory emulators were dialed down as low as she dared take them, but everything was still so _loud_, so deafeningly loud – the blaring horns of the bloodcurdlingly monstrous Reaper as it landed by the beam, that bright blue beam that was their destination, and unleashed hell from its glowering eye, burning deep and sizzling trenches into the ground in all directions, disintegrating men before her - the soldiers sprinting alongside them shouting orders or crying out despairingly as they were cut down – the constant droning of war machines of countless configuration -

In front of her, he was running, his N7 armor chipped and bloodied but still intact, the rifle in his hands swaying vigorously from side to side in time with his long strides, and though she couldn't see his face, she knew that he wore the determined expression that he always did while facing down death, his jaw set firmly and defiantly, eyes gleaming with a deadly light, nostrils flaring with every new breath - and while she was scared for her life, she felt safe knowing that he was near, that even though they were running into the unknown, were possibly running to their doom, they were doing it together.

And then suddenly a shadow fell over her, a multi-ton tank flying through the air, flipping over and over, and her brain sluggishly registered that it was going to hit the ground where she was standing, crushing her into a pulp – eyes widening, she dived, feeling as though she were moving underwater, as far to the side as she could, praying that it would take her to safety, or at least the closest semblance to safety that existed in that hellish, corpse-strewn stretch of land.

The doomed tank ploughed into the ground, bursting briefly into flame, so close to her that for a terrifying moment she thought that she was hit, and she frantically looked down at her body to make sure she was still all there – she was, but when she tried to stand, she found that she was too exhausted, and her body did not want to respond. The constant and harrowing combat that preceded the charge to the beam had taken more than its toll on her.

She was only vaguely aware of his presence as he helped her to her feet, that deadly light in his eyes, his breathing heavy but controlled. She did not protest as he took her arm over his shoulder and limped up to the tank's burnt shell, lowering her to the ground, where she sat, dazed, protected by the bulk which had only seconds ago threatened to end her life.

She did not hear him call for extraction, surreally muted as her world had become – all she heard was a maddening ringing in her ears – and so was surprised as the Normandy shortly swooped down from the flashing, explosion-laced night sky, taking advantage of the Reaper's temporary preoccupation with the air defenses pummeling it from all directions. As he helped her to her feet again and walked her over to the ship, whose maw was stretching open to receive them, she wanted to turn to him, ask him why they were running away, why they were running now when they had never done so before –

But he wasn't running.

Once she was safely past the bay door, he released his hold on her and jogged back down, back onto the wet soil, back into the fray. He was leaving her behind.

Exhausted as she was, she was alive, still capable of feeling panic, and it flared up in her. She reached out with one hand.

_Build a home_

His hand was on the side of her visor, his eyes bright in the darkness and full of his love, and she reached out again to touch him but he was already fading away – the screaming started, as ever not aloud but _inside _her, a building of pressure within that made her feel ready to burst, a helplessness that threatened to render her insane, and then the red beam cut him from view and the soundless scream became louder still –

Tali'Zorah awoke to the sound of a heartbeat.

It took her a very long moment to realize that it was not, in fact, _her_ heartbeat, and to recollect the events of the previous day - being rescued by Wrex, landing on Earth, arriving at the hospital, seeing all of her old friends, finally reaching –

_Build a home_

"Shepard," she breathed, a smile softening her face, which had been tense and wary after waking from that dream, that nightmare, the one that had haunted her for the last month. The heartbeat she was hearing, so clearly and loudly that it might have been her own, was his. Her head was resting on his chest. He was alive.

He came back to her.

She closed her eyes again and inhaled deeply, steadying her nerves, and simply sat there, unmoving, listening to the sound of his beating heart, his living heart, the surest and most basic testimony there was to his life. It mingled with the sounds of her own heartbeat, a combination so pure and so right that she could have listened to it forever.

It was only grudgingly that she sat upright. Her hands were still clasping one of his as she gazed at his face. She remembered how he had looked when she first arrived, features contorted with pain, how it had made her hurt right along with him. There was no pain there now. He appeared completely at peace, mouth partially open, brow relaxed instead of furrowed, and it struck her, as it had the first time she shared his bed, how completely innocent he looked in his sleep. _This is a man with a clear conscience_, she had thought on that night, almost two years earlier. There was something different now, an undercurrent that she could not read, which she may well have been imagining, but it did not change that impression.

Tali freed one of her gloved hands and placed it gently on Shepard's forehead. What dreams were going through his mind, she wondered? More significantly, what dreams had gone through his mind before she was there, before she knew he was even alive – what horrific visions had laced with his physical agony to bring such pained expressions to his face? She did not know, could only guess, and the idea of ever finding out unnerved her; but she knew, just as surely as she knew she loved him, that she would willingly listen to him if he ever decided to tell her, that she would share in any burdens that weighed heavy on his soul.

So lost in these thoughts was she that she did not notice his eyes flutter open, and merely continued to delicately run her fingers across his skin.

* * *

Commander Shepard transitioned from sleep not into that oppressively hot delirium, inhabited by long-dead ghosts lending their voices to a maddening discord, but into clear, knowing consciousness. He stared at the ceiling, aware but uncomprehending of his awareness, until he realized that he felt cool and alert. His toes flexed unconsciously, testing the state of his condition, and a burst of pain shot up his legs – but it was not nearly as bad as it had been, did not make him scream out, did not invite blackness into his vision.

Then he noticed that he was not alone. His company was not an ethereal figure from his memory – he could tell that this otherness was real, palpable. He could feel the hand on his forehead, felt the one whose fingers laced with those of his own.

This otherness was touching him, but that fact did not inspire any concern. Why? He felt so completely serene, like there was no other place in the universe that he should have been, like everything was _right_, somehow. And then he remembered why – why he had slept so soundly, why he was not troubled by the hands on him.

Shepard turned his head to the side, ignoring the brief resulting burning in his neck. He saw her, Tali, sitting in a chair close to his bed (a bed, he was in a bed), the glowing eyes beneath her visor fixed on his face, and the vindication he had felt the night before returned to him, flooded through him. The fight had been worth it. Those tormenting steps from the rubble pile into the rebuilt London had not been in vain. He had not suffered the hell of his own mind for nothing.

"Tali," he said, his voice so weak and muted that at first he feared he had not actually said anything aloud, but her head perked, and he knew she had heard him.

She did not say anything for a time, letting her eyes roam his features. Then, she removed her hand from his forehead, letting it slide down his cheek and then down, to clasp around his hand. "Shepard," she finally said, thickly, as though staving off tears. "I – " She paused, head twitching minutely about as she searched for words, and then she shook her head vigorously, frustrated at her inability to find any. "_Keelah_, Shepard, I thought you were _dead_."

Shepard watched this, watched her emotions, the emotions that she always displayed so purely, one of the many things, he was remembering, that he loved about her. Unable to find words easily himself, he squeezed her hand tenderly, drawing her gaze down to it. "I know," he said, and hated that he could think of nothing better, but what else was there to say? "I thought so, too."

Tali looked slowly back up at him, and then, shaking her head again, released a soft, sad laugh. "This whole…dying and coming back thing is a bad habit." She reached up with a hand and let it rest on his cheek. "I was…when I thought you died – again, I mean – I was…"

"Tali," Shepard cut her off gently, and she fell silent. "I didn't. I'm here. Don't think about it anymore."

"It's not that easy," Tali replied, and there was no edge to her voice, but the thickness did return as she continued, leaning in to nestle her head against his shoulder. "I slept well for the first time in _weeks _last night. Shepard, I – "

Shepard reached up and delicately placed his fingers on the side of her visor, turning her face upward so that their eyes met. "I know. Tali, I hatemyself for doing that to you. I wish it could have happened differently. Nothing I can say will… I'm sorry."

"It's not your _fault_," Tali protested. "I'm not _blaming _you. I'm…" she clasped his hand again and pulled it up close to her chest. "I'm trying to tell you how I _feel_. I want to just say, 'I'm happy to see you,' but – that doesn't – _boshtet_." She shook her head. "I can't think of any words for what I want to say. Dammit, I _love you_, Shepard, and my world fell apart without you." Her tone softened. "And now…being with you again…being _near _you…knowing that you're alive..."

"Yes," Shepard said, his voice becoming stronger, clearer, even as he kept its volume low. "I am. But I wouldn't be, if it wasn't for you."

Tali looked up at him, head cocked quizzically to one side. "What? I didn't do anything."

Shepard regarded her for a moment, and then gently extracted his hand only to take both of hers into his. "When I woke up, or…regained consciousness," he said, "I was as good as a corpse. My entire body was shut down. If I even tried to move, I felt like I would explode."

Tali averted her gaze. "Shepard, please, I don't want – "

"Please," Shepard said. "Let me tell you this." When she responded with a reluctant nod, he continued. "I saw the city. They were rebuilding it. I felt happy. Sad, too…for a lot of reasons." A shadow fell over his face momentarily, one that Tali did not miss, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. "But I knew that it was all over. I could give in and die without feeling like I was running away.

"I reflected on things. Thought about my friends. Garrus, Liara, Kaidan, James. I was glad that I got a chance to know them." He smiled, and his eyes shone as he looked into hers. "And then I thought of you."

He broke off, looking down briefly at their hands. Tali was vaguely aware that she was holding her breath. For the last few weeks she had only been able to speculate on what happened to Shepard, and now she was finally hearing it from him, filling her with both anticipation and dread.

His eyes rose and met hers once more. "All I could remember was what you said when I saw you for the last time."

"Come back to me," Tali whispered, but she was lost in his eyes, immersed in his comforting presence, and the memories that usually came with remembering that night did not consume her.

Shepard nodded, and then chuckled quietly. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but – you…the thought of you, the memory of you, of being with you…gave me strength, Tali. I wanted nothing more than to just let my body rest, to just _die_, but I couldn't. Not when you might be waiting for me. You think that you didn't do anything, but you did _everything._" He released her hands and moved both of his up, planting them on either side of her mask, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and sincere. "Tali, I walked through an eternity of pain, endured hell, for _you. _I only survived because of _you._ It was all for you." His brow furrowed. "It was only for you."

Tali found she could say nothing, could not find a response, and while this was not an uncommon thing for the young quarian woman, this time it was not because she felt awkward, not because she felt embarrassed – it was because she felt overwhelmed, both by his love and the love she had for him, by a warmth so potent and so powerful that she did not think her body could handle it. Her mouth worked silently for a moment as she tried to put words to all of it, but none were forthcoming.

And then it came to her, the only response that could possibly have a hope of being sufficient. Her hands rose slowly and rested on his, resting on the sides of her visor as they were, and then she tugged them away and lowered them to his lap; this done, she reached back up, still slowly, almost dreamily, and clicked at the switches on her helmet that would expose her face to the open air. Shepard began to protest, reminding her that she would get sick, but she did not stop. Tali's visor was dropped to the mattress, revealing her delicate facial features, her lashes blinking over glowing eyes, soft lips slightly parted, and she leaned in, hesitating inches from his face, their gazes still met.

"Sweet-talker," she murmured.

The kiss was the clearest communication either one of them had ever known, and both of them understood what the other wanted to say, but could not.

* * *

To Garrus Vakarian's surprise, he was rather enjoying himself at Nathan Levitt Medical Center. There had not, of course, been any doubt in his mind that he needed to be there – Shepard was as true a friend as he'd ever known, and beyond that, he respected the man a great deal. He knew that he would not set foot out of the hospital until Shepard did, whether that took days, or weeks, or even months.

He had been prepared to face the repercussions for this. After all, Palaven was in sore need of able bodies, and leaving it for personal matters would surely be frowned on by any of his turian kin; but Garrus was a special case, a war hero, and if there was one thing the turian people idolized, it was military excellence. The Primarch had assured him that he need not worry, about his own standing or about Palaven, which was receiving extensive aid from the krogan and humans.

His enjoyment, though, did not come from his sense of confidence that he belonged there in the hospital lobby, waiting to support Shepard in any way he could. That was a fulfilling endeavor in itself, but it was seeing his many friends that brought a smile to Garrus's face. After separating from them only a couple of weeks earlier, he had immediately begun to miss them, each and every one, even Javik, who had never been known to pursue friendship. He recognized, academically, that he would eventually have to move on, past his days cruising around on the Normandy engaging in dangerous missions – but, he reasoned, for as long as they were all together, he might as well make the most of it.

As many familiar faces as there were in the hospital that day, there were some notably missing. Garrus was standing by the lobby windows, hands clasped behind his back, watching several Alliance guards play some human sport he did not recognize (and which appeared foolish to him), and as he watched, he wondered where those absentees were.

He did not hear Jacob Taylor's approach, but managed to contain a reflexive gasp of surprise when the former Cerberus operative spoke. "Hey, Garrus," he said in his easily friendly way, slapping a hand on the turian's back – of all the people Garrus had come to call friend, Jacob was the most prone to physical contact, eclipsing even the krogan. "What's up?"

"Jacob," Garrus said, turning his head slightly and beadily looking down at him. "How was the food?"

Jacob winced. "Let's just say you didn't miss out on anything. Fortunately, Kaidan got there before the rest of us. Warned that it wasn't very good, but pretty much everyone gave it a shot anyway." He laughed. "There was a _lot _of spitting food out into napkins."

Garrus twisted his torso briefly to look behind them, scanning the corridor that led to the cafeteria. From what he could see, it was only him and Jacob in the lobby. He turned back to face forward. "So, what, everyone's still back there, giving hell to the cooks?"

Jacob, watching the Alliance guards outside play their sport, hissed sharply as one of them made what was apparently a particularly risky or skilled move. It appeared to Garrus more like he was falling face-first into the dirt. "Nah. Everyone's kinda off doing their own thing right now. Saw James out in the courtyard doing his ridiculous exercise routine." He shook his head. "Don't know how the man _does _it. Every day, like, a million sit-ups, and pull-ups, and push-ups, all of that. The krogan were just taking everyone's rejected food trays and cleaning them out. Guess they didn't notice that it tastes like ass. Dunno about anyone else, but they're around, I'm sure. No one's gonna leave the hospital, at least until they get to see Shepard."

Garrus grinned at the mental image of Wrex plowing through tray after tray of food, massive krogan appetite in full sway. "Hmph. Well. If you're hungry, Jacob, I've got some of this _delicious_, _mouth-watering _turian chocolate, which doesn't, incidentally, taste like ass." He pulled a wrapped bar out of his suit pocket and waved it tantalizingly in the air, prompting a raised eyebrow and snort of laughter from Jacob. Putting it away again, he added, "Of course, it might give you cramps for the next two days, but we're talking about turian chocolate here. Worth a little sacrifice."

"I'll take your word for it," Jacob said. "What have you been up to while we were all suffering in the cafeteria?"

Garrus nodded in the direction of the sport taking place outdoors. "Wondering what the hell these humans are doing." He looked down at Jacob. "Is this – is this _deliberate_? Are they _fighting_, or something? I have to tell you, if this is some kind of human sport, it looks ridiculous."

Jacob laughed. "Maybe it looks ridiculous to _you_, my friend, but to those of us who grew up as human boys, this – " He gestured grandly out the window with both hands. " – is _art_." Dropping his arms, he continued. "We call it 'football.' Well – American football, anyway."

Garrus let his mouth gape in exaggerated shock. "Don't tell me you have _two types _of this sport. That's just unnecessary. And confusing." He tilted his head, as though a thought had just hit him. "Then again, I forgot. You people like confusing."

"You could say that," Jacob agreed with a chuckle. "But they aren't variations on the same sport. Two completely different sets of rules and objectives. They just happen to have the same name."

"Uh-huh." Garrus squinted out at the Alliance guards. "So – _why _are they tackling each other into the ground? Is that a part of the sport, or are they just very angry?"

Jacob shook his head, smiling widely. "Just part of the game. Gotta tackle the enemy players to gain ground. Get that ball – " he indicated a strangely-shaped, reddish object tucked under one man's arm, which promptly tumbled to the ground as another participant lunged into the holder from behind and dragged him to the ground. " – to the opposite side of the field. Or yard. Playing area, whatever."

"_Fascinating_," Garrus said. He turned so that his entire body was facing Jacob and crossed his arms. "So you're telling me that millions of humans follow a sport where grown, sweaty men tackle each other to the ground to get a hold of some balls?"

Jacob burst into laughter and planted his face into one palm. "Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound very exciting. But yeah. Guess you'd have to be human to understand. And, for what it's worth – " He mirrored Garrus's stance, crossing his arms. " – there's only one ball."

Garrus turned his head, and observed the game for another moment. "I think this is one part of human culture I don't _want _to understand." He looked back to Jacob. "Tell you what. When we're done here, I'll take you to see some _real _sports. Turian style. Without this whole _ball _obsession."

"Deal," Jacob said, grinning, and the two were turning back to watch the game when a new, female voice piped up nearby.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

It was Liara. The asari walked up to them, looking around the room with a slight frown tugging at her lips.

"Jacob was just telling me about the intricacies of a sport where grown men – " Garrus began.

"We were talking about football," Jacob interrupted him hastily, elbowing his turian friend. "Human sport." He nodded in Liara's direction as she stopped and stood before them, ceasing her scan of the lobby and focusing her vivid eyes on them. "What's up? Look like you lost something."

At this Liara briefly set to looking around again, craning her neck to look over her shoulder. "Have either of you seen Javik?"

Garrus placed a hand contemplatively on his chin. " 'Javik,' you say? Tall guy, greenish-gray skin, four eyes, frowns a lot?"

Jacob rolled his eyes. Liara, meanwhile, managed a strained smile. "That's the one."

Garrus considered the question more seriously in his mind, and realized that he had not, in fact, seen the prothean since that morning, when most of the group migrated to the cafeteria. "Can't say I've see him, actually," he said, and turned to Jacob.

The human shrugged his shoulders. "Me, either," he said apologetically. "Sorry, Liara. What do you need to tell him? If I see him before you do, I can pass along the message."

Liara was distractedly glancing around the room again, eyes lingering on the various access points of the lobby, and blinked as she heard his question. Fidgeting with her hands in a way that Garrus had not seen since the early days on the Normandy SR-1, she replied. "It's – It's not a big deal. Please, forget I asked. But – " her eyes saddened a bit, baffling Garrus. " – if you _do _see him, please tell him that I'm looking for him."

"Will do," Jacob said, sounding confused himself, and Garrus nodded to confirm his understanding.

An awkward silence descended on the trio, as both Jacob and Garrus exchanged subtle glances of concern, mentally puzzling over why Liara was looking for Javik and why, more importantly, it seemed to be preoccupying her so overwhelmingly, while the asari made a very obvious and unsuccessful effort at appearing casual, an effort which was rendered null by the way she continued to sneak furtive glances all around.

Garrus was preparing to break the silence when his ears picked up sounds, the sounds of footsteps, coming from the direction of the stairwell leading to Shepard's room. Neither of the others gave any indication of noticing, so he alone trained his curious eye on that stairwell.

It wasn't long until Tali came into view, practically gliding down the stairs, so lively was her step. A smile broke out on Garrus's harsh turian features, and he cupped a hand to his mouth. "Sweet dreams, Tali?"

Liara and Jacob, looking surprised, turned around and joined him in watching the quarian woman, who waved one of her three-fingered hands and increased her pace, approaching them.

"Hi, guys," she said, sounding markedly different than she had for some time. Was it cheerfulness that Garrus heard? No – that was part of it, but not all of it. It seemed to him, on a basic level, that she sounded more like _herself_, more like Tali. He was glad.

"Tali," Liara said warmly, her own troubles apparently forgotten, and she moved in to give her a quick hug. Tali reciprocated, and when they extricated themselves from each other, she kept one hand rested on the asari's arm for a prolonged moment. "We saw you sleeping up there, with Shepard. You must have been _exhausted_." She smiled. "You looked adorable."

"I was tired," Tali admitted. "Mostly because – well. Seeing him again…being with him again…" she trailed off.

"I'm happy for you, Tali," Garrus said genuinely, nodding at her, and Jacob gave a nod of his own to show his agreement. "None of us liked seeing you so sad. We all went up to Shepard's room after you. Decided not to go in, obviously. Didn't want to wake you." He paused. "It wasn't right, for you two to be apart. But that's fixed now."

Tali's smile was so content and vibrant that the others could practically feel it through her mask. "Yes," she said simply.

"So…did he kick you out? Didn't think you'd ever leave that room," Jacob said, expression playful.

Tali turned to him and, laughing, shook her head. "No. Nothing like that. We had a nice long talk about half an hour ago. Then he slipped back into sleep, so I decided to stretch my legs for a few minutes." She looked to each of them in turn, and then looked down at her hands, clasped below her waist. "I think…he's going to be okay," she said softly, a warmth in her voice.

"Oh, Tali," Liara said, and pulled her into another hug. "Of course he is. He's safe here. We'll do anything we can to help, and he's got some of the best doctors around working on him."

Garrus snorted. "I'll help by kicking his ass if he starts taking a turn for the worse," he said lightly, and Jacob chuckled. "You said you had a talk with him this morning? So he's conscious?"

Tali withdrew herself from Liara's hold again and regarded him, nodding. "Yes. Or, he was not long ago."

"Well, then." Garrus rolled his neck about and stretched his arms. "With your permission, Miss Tali, I'll go and try to say hello." He turned to Jacob and Liara. "Would anyone care to join me?"

"Hold on," Tali said, and everyone turned to her. "I – I don't want to sound like I'm giving orders, or anything. I think it would be good for Shepard to see some more friendly faces. But…he's still not in very good shape." She looked down at her hands again, as though embarrassed. "I would…appreciate if you only went up to see him one at a time. Safer…that way."

Liara placed a hand on her shoulder, and the quarian lifted her face. "If anyone here is qualified to give orders on this, it's you," she said affectionately. "And you make a good point anyway. We don't want to overtax Shepard." She looked meaningfully at the other two. "Let's take this slow."

"You're right, of course," Garrus said. "Guess I got a little overexcited there." He glanced from Jacob to Liara. "I don't want to be _that guy_. Do one of you want to go first?"

Jacob shook his head and held up his hands. "Go ahead."

Garrus nodded at him and turned to Liara, who stared at nothing in particular for a long moment before finally raising her blue eyes to his. "Tell him we're all here for him," she said.

"He'll be glad to see you, Garrus," Tali said, and smiled ruefully beneath her visor, a smile which could be heard through her voice. "I don't know if I did much to lighten his mood. Lots of heavy stuff."

"Well, that's just not fair," Garrus griped. "If his favorite person in the galaxy can't cheer him up, what am I supposed to do?"

"You'll figure it out," Jacob chuckled. "You always do. _Archangel_."

Garrus laughed softly himself, and then inhaled deeply. "Well," he said, nodding to them all. "Off I go, then."

He walked to the stairwell, giving one last glance over his shoulder, where Tali was talking quietly with Liara while Jacob half-listened, also watching the football game taking place outside.

And then he began to climb the stairs, mind racing.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **A big thanks to everyone who's reviewed the story - particularly the ones who have been reviewing every chapter. I appreciate it very much.

Liara watched Garrus until he was out of sight, and then, smiling, took one of Tali's hands into hers. "Come on," she said. "I've been hoping we'd have a chance to talk." She turned to Jacob. "You won't be lonely without us, will you, Jacob?"

He grinned at them and waved dismissively. "Nah. Go ahead, ladies. I'll see what everyone else is up to."

With that matter settled, Liara led Tali out of the lobby, heading down one of the corridors. The young quarian looked around curiously as they walked, realizing that, beyond the lobby and Shepard's room, she had no idea what Nathan Levitt Medical Center actually _looked _like – even her trip up to his room had been a distracted blur, the details of which she could not remember.

Considering that the building was situated in what was only recently a war zone, it was remarkably clean and undamaged. It had occurred to her, dimly, how strange it was, from the outside, to see one intact building among so many ruins, but only now that she was in its depths did the sheer improbability of it all hit her. Was it an act of mercy by the cold and alien Reapers? That seemed unlikely – on the various other worlds they had trashed, particularly the devastated Khar'shan, no such selectiveness in targets had been displayed. Whatever the reason, it was just another contributing factor to the miraculous feeling of the whole situation.

The medical staff was sizable, mostly made up of humans but with a few aliens popping up here and there – Tali spotted a small group of turians, dressed identically to their human colleagues, taking inventory in a storage closet, and to her surprise, she nearly bumped into a salarian, who was talking animatedly into a headset and scanning a portable data device. She had to stifle a giggle as she glimpsed Urdnot Bont, towering over two human nurses (both of whom looked simultaneously confused and nervous), arms crossed, barking out questions about supplies.

Their path, forged very precisely by Liara, who apparently knew where she was going, eventually took them to a room that felt markedly out of place in the bland, sterile décor of the hospital. It was dark, lit only by the ambient blue glow of a massive aquarium which spanned the entire far wall. Tali was reminded of the one in Shepard's cabin on the Normandy, although his, filled with fish of various alien origins, was positively crowded in comparison – the only inhabitant here was an Earth-native squid, considerable in its size, with long wispy tendrils swaying lazily in the water. Furniture was sparse, consisting of a long table with a black surface and sinks built in at various points, and two tan leather recliners placed against the wall adjacent to the aquarium, complete with a small coffee table placed between them.

Liara released Tali's hand and moved over to one of the chairs, smoothing out the front of her dress and sitting down. Tali, meanwhile, stood by the room's door, gaping, scanning their surreal surroundings.

"What is this place?" she asked after a moment, giving up any hope of coming up with the answer for herself.

The asari joined her in looking around, blue eyes gleaming brightly in the gloom. "I don't know," she admitted. "I was…looking for someone this morning. I ended up roaming pretty much the entire hospital." Her eyes settled on the squid, and she followed its meandering path through the miniature ocean that served as its home. "I stumbled on this room, and fell in love with it. I was stressed out, but I immediately felt calm as soon as I walked in." She smiled at Tali. "I thought you might like it, too."

Still bemused, Tali laughed and walked over to the central table. "I _do_. At least, I think I do. I'm a little weirded out that it even exists, but it's…it's nice." Her head turned in Liara's direction. "Reminds me of a…comforting place."

Liara raised an eyebrow. "A certain person's private quarters, maybe?"

Tali did not feel embarrassed in the least, but blushed slightly nonetheless. She wondered if she would ever stop reacting in such a way whenever another person referred to her relationship with Shepard, however indirectly. "Yes, actually. How did you – "

Liara laughed. "Tali, I may not be romantically involved with Commander Shepard, but that doesn't mean I've never seen his cabin." She looked back to the squid. "In fact, the best explanation I've been able to come up with for this room is that it was someone's personal quarters. Or, judging by the table, maybe some kind of staff lounge."

"I guess it doesn't really matter," Tali said, wandering over and sitting on the remaining recliner. "Let's just hope we're allowed to be here. I don't want to get in trouble." She placed a hand to the chin area of her mask in mock contemplation. "What if this is the room where they do their dark medical experiments?"

Liara's eyebrow raised even higher. "'Dark medical experiments?'"

"You _know_," Tali told her. "Like, taking a human and giving him krogan legs. Or – giving a volus elcor arms." She gestured nebulously at the room in general. "I'm just saying, it's got everything you'd need for a mad scientist's lab, or something." She shuddered. "Especially the fish thing."

"What, the jellyfish?" Liara giggled. "Tali, is the jellyfish _bothering _you?" She cocked her head to the side. "…How do you feel about hanar?"

"I'm not racist against hanar if _that's_ what you're implying," Tali retorted good-naturedly.

"If you say so," Liara said, nodding solemnly, and then descended once more into a fit of giggling.

Tali watched this briefly before succumbing and giggling herself. "_What_?"

"Oh – Goddess – " Liara managed between breaths. "A volus – with _elcor arms_ – " And then she set to laughing again, shaking her head helplessly. Tali's giggling intensified as well, and it was some time until their laughter died down, leaving the two friends sitting there, gasping for breath, feeling quite comfortable in their chairs and one another's company.

Tali, sunk so deeply into the leather recliner that she feared she might never rise again, turned her head lazily to Liara. "Wow_,_" she said, smiling under her mask. "It's been a _long _time since I've laughed like that." She paused, and reached across the space between them, placing her hand on the asari's. "Thanks. I've been distracted, but…it really has been nice to see you again. I missed you."

Liara, too, turned her head, so that they were facing each other, a contented grin on her lips, and placed her free hand on top of the quarian's. "You, too. And I should be thanking _you_. I wasn't in the best mood. I needed a good laugh."

"You mentioned you were looking for someone," Tali said. "Who was it?"

The grin faded from Liara's face. "Javik," she replied softly.

Out of all the answers she could have given, that was not one that Tali ever would have expected. The two had never gotten along, and at one point their interactions had famously taken such a sour note that they had nearly come to blows, a disaster averted thanks only to Commander Shepard's timely intervention. Blinking, she asked aloud, "Javik? Why were you looking for him?"

Gently, Liara withdrew her hands from the quarian's, and let them fall into her lap. Her eyes gazed down at them, looking distant. "Well, I wasn't – I mean, it wasn't anything – he just – _damn_," she swore with unexpected venom, and Tali felt concern mingling with her curiosity. "I hate this. When I was the Shadow Broker, I was able to give complex, individual orders to dozens of agents at the same time. But this…" she laughed, but it was a joyless, almost bitter sound. "It's like my tongue is being weighted down."

"Whoa, back up for a second," Tali said, awkwardly shifting in her chair and turning more fully to Liara. "'_Was_' the Shadow Broker? Does that mean what I think it means?"

Liara looked at her uncomprehendingly for a long moment, her mind clearly elsewhere, and then a smile reappeared on her lips. "Yes," she said. "I'm…done being the Shadow Broker. I guess you could say I've retired."

Tali tried to wrap her mind around this new information and found that she could not. "But – you _loved _being the Shadow Broker! You were a _natural_! I mean, you had that entire set-up going on in your cabin, on the Normandy – you were in charge of getting all that important intel during the war – "

"The war is over," Liara said, cutting her off mildly. "The Reapers are gone. There's no more reason for me to stay on as the Shadow Broker." She looked back down at her hands, frowning thoughtfully. "That was the entire reason I ever started, in the first place. The Reapers were coming, and we had _no idea _how to stop them. We needed an edge. We needed information. And becoming the Shadow Broker was the best way to _get _that information. It was an opportunity I couldn't afford to pass up.

"At the time, I had ulterior motives, of course. I was a good information broker. I was proud of that. I thought I had what it took to transform the business, all across the galaxy. Maybe make it something less – shadowy." Her frown deepened. "But…I had no idea…how taxing it would be. Spending every minute of every day, juggling a million different operations in my head, keeping track of every report and every client. It was like I wasn't _alive _anymore. I was just a drone."

It had always appeared to Tali that her asari friend loved being the Shadow Broker, that she had positively thrived in the position – after all, she always had a penchant for handling and interpreting information, and for the first time, she'd had enough of it to keep her occupied for the rest of her life. Hearing about the darker aspects of it all made her feel foolish and naïve for such assumptions, and even somewhat guilty; they had always been close friends, and she had never detected any of it. "I see," she said quietly. "I had no idea, Liara. I'm sorry you had to handle such a burden alone."

"Thank you, Tali, but I'm not complaining," Liara said, smiling. "I just wanted to explain why I'm done. I don't regret any of it. The information that we got as a result was useful. I'm sure it saved lives."

Tali nodded and settled back more comfortably, keeping her glowing eyes trained on Liara. "I think you're right. But – if _you're _not the Shadow Broker anymore, then…who is?"

"Do you remember Feron, the drell we saved on Hagalaz?" Liara asked, and when Tali nodded again, she continued. "During the war, he was my most active operative on the field. He took on all of the riskiest operations, the ones where the most lives were at stake." Her blue eyes dwelled on the aquarium. "I asked him to take over. He's a good friend. Someone I trust. I believe he'll be a…benevolent Shadow Broker. That he'll exercise good judgment."

"I got the impression, back when I met him, that he was only sticking around to help you," Tali said, thinking back to the harrowing rescue mission on the old Shadow Broker's base, a ship which was an astounding feat of engineering, maintaining its integrity even in Hagalaz's deadly and perpetual storms. "I'm glad to hear that he's taking over, but how did you convince him?"

Liara nodded. "You're right. He'd had enough of the information broker life back then. If I hadn't stepped in, he would have dropped it. But during the war, he saw that he can make a positive difference, with the right people in charge." Her smile returned, fondly. "Now the right person…is him. He understood that quickly."

"Good," Tali said, and the two fell silent, contentedly watching the room's resident jellyfish as it continued to forge a ponderous, aimless trail through its watery world. After a time, the quarian turned to Liara. "So, if you're done being the Shadow Broker…what's next?"

Liara's gaze dwelled on the fish for another moment, and then she laughed softly, raising herself slightly in her seat and repositioning her legs. "I'm going back in time," she said. "Returning to my true love. Archaeology."

Tali brightened. For so long, when she had thought of Liara, 'archaeology' was the first thing that came to mind – the asari had often told stories of how, even as a young child, she'd had a fascination with and curiosity for civilizations long gone. During her stint as the Shadow Broker, all of that was easy to forget, and remembering her as the inexperienced aspiring archaeologist of years prior was comforting, in its way. "That's great," she said earnestly. "So you'll go back to studying ancient ruins, piecing together history, and all that stuff?" Teasingly, she added, "_Keelah, _Liara, won't that be _lonely_? Especially after spending years with all of us on the Normandy."

Liara looked back down at her hands, and her blue eyes grew strangely distant once more. "But I won't be alone," she said silently. "I'll be…I'll be with Javik."

Tali's mouth dropped in speechless shock. It was not so much because of the contents of Liara's reply – after all, she had mentioned a possible collaboration with the prothean on some historical volumes – as it was the way in which she said it. There was a subtle but distinct emotion in her voice, one that Tali herself had grown very familiar with, one that she had never heard from the asari in the several years they'd known each other.

It was love.

Tali resisted the urge to voice the incredulous questions that flooded her mind (_Liara and Javik hate each other, what the hell is going on_) and opted for a more tactful approach, keeping her voice neutral as she asked, "Javik will be traveling with you? I didn't think you two got along."

"We didn't," Liara said, chuckling sadly. "In fact, we still don't. Or at least I don't think we do. Oh, Goddess, Tali, I just don't _know_." Suddenly she twisted her entire body about in her recliner, so that she was fully facing her quarian friend, wearing an almost pleading expression. "Tali, I – I think I love him."

"_Love _him?" Tali echoed, trying hard not to sound like she was doubting her. "Liara, you _hate _him, remember? You almost used your biotics to blast his brains out on the Normandy. He never showed you any respect."

"I never _hated _him," Liara protested. "We just…weren't close. We kept things cordial. And – he always answered my questions, about his people and his cycle. We just – like I said, we – we just weren't _friends_."

"Right," said Tali. "So how do you go from being 'not friends' to being in _love _with him?"

She blinked as Liara propelled herself from her chair and began pacing back and forth in front of Tali's, her hands still fidgeting. "After we dropped you off on Rannoch, everyone was heading off on their own. I asked Joker to drop me off on Thessia, to help rebuild. Javik was there, and he asked if he could go with me.

I didn't expect it, but I appreciated that he wanted to help, and agreed. I even asked if he would still consider writing books about the prothean empire with me, and he told me that he wanted to. And then we got to Thessia, and – we spent a few days volunteering, helping to clean up rubble – we talked a lot, about – about him, about the protheans, about our cycle, _this _cycle, he had so many questions – and then – one night – we just – "

Tali clasped both hands to the mouthpiece on her mask as she stifled laughter, which would not have helped the situation, as Liara looked to be on the verge of imploding from pent-up emotion. "Liara, are you saying what I _think _you're saying? Did you and Javik – have a _thing_?"

Liara stopped pacing in front of Tali. "Yes. I mean – no. Well, yes, we had a _thing, _but – "

This was too much for Tali, who, despite her best efforts, could no longer contain her giggles. Liara gaped at her for a moment, and then glowered indignantly, as the young quarian managed to gasp, "I'm sorry, Liara, but - you – and Javik – that must have been the _angriest _sex of all time – "

The indignation on the asari's face quickly turned into a sad kind of amusement, and she laughed, too. "Maybe," she admitted, and fell back into her chair, letting the back of one hand rest against her forehead. "I…I don't know how it happened. We were actually _arguing_ not long before. It's all – it's all just this _blur _in my head." She looked meaningfully at Tali, who had stopped giggling and was listening intently. "But it _wasn't _just a 'thing,' Tali. I'm sure of it. I – at least, it wasn't just a 'thing' for me. And I'm sure it wasn't for him, either. We've been closer and closer ever since – although I suppose it hasn't been long."

Tali nodded, and then reached out and held one of Liara's hands. "Listen, I didn't mean to laugh at you. I _wasn't _laughing at you. I'm…I'm glad to hear this, actually. If you say you love him, and you do, then I believe you. And I think it's great." She was relieved to find that she meant every word; although the coupling was difficult to imagine, if it made her longtime friend happy, then it made her happy, as well.

A warm, simple smile lit up Liara's face, and she squeezed the quarian's hand. "Thank you." And then her expression became more troubled. "I do think I love him. No, I don't just _think _so. It's – it's hard to explain, Tali, but…_intimacy _for us was even more _intimate _than it is for two asari. You know how easily he can read people's feelings just by standing around them. Imagine how intense that is when our bodies are joined. And – I pick up some of that, some of that – _telepathy_, or _empathy_. It was…" she shuddered slightly. "Amazing. Frightening, but amazing. And so pure. Neither of us had any doubt about how the other felt."

"So what's the problem?" Tali asked, genuinely baffled. For her, once she had known Shepard felt the same way she did, there had been no doubt, for either of them, and they had plunged with mutual happiness into their relationship. Liara, meanwhile, seemed conflicted.

Liara extricated her hand from Tali's and slumped back into her chair, sighing. "I don't know. Ever since we got to the hospital, he's been – different. Almost like he's – avoiding me. And the weird part is, he _hasn't _been avoiding me, physically, at least, until today. He was still always with me. He just – it was like he closed himself off. And now, he's disappeared without even telling me where he's gone."

Tali frowned. If Javik was messing with her friend's heart, there would be dire consequences. "Second thoughts, do you think?"

"No. I mean – I don't think so. I just _don't know_, Tali," Liara replied, rubbing her temples. "I don't feel like that's right. I don't know if it's instinct, or emotion, or my link with him, but it just doesn't – feel right. I think it's something else."

Tali stood and moved close, sitting on the arm of Liara's chair, looking down at her. "Is there any way I can help?"

The offer seemed to shake Liara out of her preoccupation, and she looked up, smiling, at her quarian friend. "You've already helped. More than I could have asked for. More than I _should_ have asked for." She reached up and rubbed Tali's back. "You have your own troubled man to take care of. And yours is a much more serious undertaking than handling a moody prothean."

"Mmm." Tali shook her head. "_Men_."

Liara laughed. "Yes," she said. "_Men._"

* * *

Commander Shepard's body was trembling.

He had awakened not long after Tali left to stretch her legs, and, with nothing to distract him, had become lost in his own thoughts. That dreaded delirium, thankfully, showed no signs of returning – and yet, even in his knowing consciousness, ghosts had found a way to haunt him. His physical form, he realized, was recovering, but his soul had a deep and possibly eternal wound, one that might not be curable by any means, not even, he feared, with the help of the woman he loved.

Where once his world had been dominated by an ethereal cacophony, now only one voice from the chorus remained, one voice that seemed to accuse and condemn him more than any of the others ever had.

_Shepard-Commander_

Shepard grimaced and tried to will his body to still itself. The trembling was more alarming, somehow, than any of the more straightforward and burning pain had been, because he had no idea why it was happening. Was it the various compounds being injected into him that very moment, the fluids and chemicals that were keeping his body from shutting down? Was it any one of the numerous artificial implants that Cerberus had built into him during the Lazarus Project? Or was his body finally just surrendering, unable to hold on even with Tali nearby, lending him her strength, and the trembles were just the first omen of a complete shutdown? He did not know, had no way of knowing, and such helplessness frustrated him endlessly. For how much longer would his life lie in the hands of doctors and nurses, beyond his control?

He held up one of his hands and gazed blearily at it, turning it from side to side. There were various small scars all across it, some more severe than others, and he gave up any hope of occupying his mind by counting them, as the trembling made it impossible. Muttering an oath under his breath, he let the hand fall back to the mattress, drawing an alarmed creaking from the wires injected into his wrist.

_Do the geth deserve to die_

For so long, he had spent his energy, his effort, poured much of his self, into the conflict between the geth and the quarians, trying to find a solution that would benefit both factions, one that would allow peace. And he had been successful, too – with the help of Legion, Tali, and his crew, he had brokered an end to their centuries-long conflict. The geth and quarians had appeared ready to build a new symbiotic relationship on Rannoch, and it was together that they had flown to Earth and engaged the Reapers.

For what? So that some ageless artificial intelligence, one responsible for the extinguishing of countless civilizations, one whose perspective was cold and unfeeling and flawlessly frustratingly rational, could tell him that they had to die? That if they were not sacrificed, they would _still _die, only to be joined by the trillions of other life forms in the galaxy?

He had made his choice. And his logic (a word, a concept, that made him feel angry, because it was one that the Catalyst had wielded as his weapon) was sound, he knew in his mind – but he also knew that he _had _had a choice. He could have chosen not to play by the rules of that A.I., not to set aside his emotion, not to set aside his soul, not to settle for what Garrus had once called the 'ruthless calculus of war;' but he did not. He chose, perhaps selfishly, to sacrifice an entire civilization for the survival of the rest.

There was one question that churned endlessly in his mind, now.

_What gave me the right?_

A familiar clicking sound alerted him that someone, likely Tali, was opening the door to his room. The surprise caused him to snap out of his reverie, and also, to his relief, stopped his body's trembling. Inwardly he hoped that it would not return as he plastered what he hoped was a casual look on his face, not wanting to worry the quarian woman, who, he was sure, had already worried more than enough over the last few weeks. That, too, continued to weigh heavy on him.

But it was Garrus, not Tali, who stood framed in the doorway, hands thrust into his pant pockets, his already alien face even more unreadable than usual. Shepard could not suppress a grin, as well as some amusement – he could not remember the last time he'd seen his turian friend dressed in anything other than his blue combat armor. He appeared markedly more lanky in the formfitting civilian attire.

Before he could say anything to express his pleasure and surprise – after all, he had had no reason to believe that anyone other than Tali was at the hospital – Garrus shook his head and laughed quietly, walking up to the bed.

"Shepard," he said, pulling out the chair which Tali had brought close to the mattress and sitting in it. "I had all kinds of clever one-liners planned for this moment, but – suddenly, I can't remember any of them." He mulled over this for a moment. "So, instead, I'll just ask this – how are you feeling?"

Shepard debated briefly how to reply. After all, he was talking to his truest and most loyal friend, someone who had followed him into hell on more than one occasion – and yet he was not sure if he would ever be prepared to discuss his true condition, the condition not just of his body, but of what lay within it. More simply, he found he did not want to worry Garrus any more than he already had, either.

"Like shit," he exhaled heavily, mustering a nonchalant expression and propping himself up slightly. "But alive. And that's a start." He smirked. "Feeling a little better now, though. Seeing your ugly mug always put things in perspective."

Garrus blinked at him, and then snorted incredulously. "Hmm. Hmm hm. Can't be as bad as everyone thought. You still think you're funny."

Shepard laughed, wincing at the pain in his ribs, and reached out, slugging his friend on the arm. "It's damn good to see you, Garrus. Thought I might be looking down on you from that bar in the afterlife, after all."

"You aren't the only one who thought that," Garrus observed dryly. "I can't lie to you, Shepard, this is getting a little old. Letting everyone think you're dead, and then making a dramatic comeback." He crossed his arms. "I think you're losing your touch, though. The first time, you added the whole twist of working with Cerberus. Very artful. This time?" He looked around. "You're in a hospital."

Shepard frowned. "Not as good?"

"Not as good."

"I'll work on that for next time," Shepard told him, a twinkle in his eye, and Garrus chuckled. "Seriously, Garrus, thanks. I'm glad you're here."

The turian's expression turned more solemn. "If there was ever a doubt that I'd be here, then I've done something wrong. You're my friend, Shepard. We've been through a lot together. I'll see this battle through with you, just like all the others."

Shepard smiled and nodded, knowing that nothing more was necessary. "Tali didn't mention that you were here. How'd you guys get here? Did you come together?"

"I guess there was a lot more on her mind than that," Garrus said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "She's been a different person since she saw you yesterday. In a good way. More like herself. She said you two had a good long talk this morning."

"Yeah. We did," Shepard said softly, nodding. "Getting back to her was…important to me. All of this – " He indicated the various medical instruments all around them. " – felt worth it, seeing her again." He glanced at Garrus. "Honestly, Garrus, how was she? If I…put her through a lot of pain, I don't…"

"Pain was unavoidable," Garrus said, interrupting him gently but firmly. "It's a part of the love you two have. And when that love is as strong as it is for you and her, the pain is bound to be just as strong." He squeezed Shepard's arm briefly. "But she's a tough girl. And you're back now. You're both going to move past this, together. You already are."

Although Shepard did not feel his friend's enthusiasm, was still trying hard to keep all of his frustrations and all of his guilt bottled up, he sighed and fell back more comfortably into his bed, smiling. "I hope you're right."

Garrus looked down at his hand and fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt. "As for how I got here, no, I didn't come with Tali. I got here a little before she did. Traveled alone, from Palaven. She hitched a ride with Wrex and Grunt, from what I – "

"Wrex?" Shepard echoed, and now the smile on his face, which had felt hollow, widened genuinely. "Wrex is here, too?"

"Yes," Garrus confirmed, sounding surprised at the question, as though it should have been obvious. "Brought along a little krogan entourage. Grunt I already mentioned, but there's also a doctor, Bont – I know, I couldn't believe it either – and a diplomat."

The happiness that Shepard had felt upon hearing that another of his closest friends was in the hospital evaporated quickly as he processed the information. Images of London being rebuilt flashed through his mind. Tuchanka had been damaged badly, too, although the Reapers had not hit it until later in the war – no doubt Wrex had been engaged in rebuilding. By that same logic, he realized, Garrus had mentioned being on Palaven, likely to help fix the damage. And now they were here, sitting in some hospital, for his benefit?

Aloud, he said, "That's good. I'm – like I said, Garrus, I'm glad you're here. Thanks. And Wrex, too. But - " He paused. "Did he mention how the genophage cure was working out?"

"We talked a little before we fell asleep last night," Garrus replied. "He told me that the cure is working. So far, anyway. A lot of happy krogan parents right now. No more need to be afraid that their child will die before its life even begins." He shook his head. "I'm glad. The genophage was around for a thousand years too many. I know that now, though I didn't for a long time."

This time, his contentment did not vanish, but filled Shepard with a lasting warmth. One ghostly voice from his nightmares could rest easily.

_Someone else might have gotten it wrong_

_But not you, Mordin_.

"That's great," he said, and then he chuckled. "After all we went through to get the cure into the Shroud, I'd have been just a _little _upset if it didn't work."

"Now _that _was a hell of a show," Garrus said. "Watching you run around those ruins with a dozen ground troops chasing you, and the big one shooting his laser all over the place."

Shepard raised his eyebrow. "Garrus, were you covering me, or kicking back and watching with your scope?"

"I couldn't do both?" Garrus asked, and the injured commander grimaced through another spell of chortling.

Shepard's brow furrowed slightly, then, and he frowned. "Look, I don't want you guys to feel like you have to put your lives on hold for me. I appreciate that you and Wrex came to visit. And Tali, of course," he added more quietly. "But I'm sure you have a lot to do. I'll be out of here in a few weeks – you guys should get back to whatever you were doing, and I'll – "

"Let me stop you there, Shepard." Garrus's voice was strong, not with any threat but with conviction, and the turian leaned forward. "Yes, you're right. We all have a lot to do. The galaxy is in shambles. Homes need rebuilding, friends and family need to be laid to rest. But I know that each and every one of us staying in this hospital isn't going anywhere."

That last sentence rung forebodingly in Shepard's ears. "Just how many of you _are _here?"

"Almost a dozen of us. Everyone who could get here quickly. Liara, Kaidan, Vega, Jacob, the list goes on. And I'm sure more are on the way." Shepard's frown deepened, and Garrus, realizing what was going through his head, pressed on. "We _want _to be here, Shepard. This isn't some charity case." He clenched his fist and lightly planted it on the human's shoulder. "For the last few years, you've always put everyone else first. You went out of your way, put your life on hold, to help everyone on your crew, even when you didn't have to. This time – just once – we're going to return the favor."

This did little to dispel Shepard's guilt, however irrational - but it also inspired gratitude, gratitude that he had such true friends, and he knew that he could not rightly pursue his encouragement for them to leave. Resigning himself to this inner tumult, recognizing that it was not going anywhere, regardless, and that having some friendly faces around might be very healing indeed, he mustered a smile. "I get the feeling this is a favor I can't turn down."

"'Course you can," Garrus said. "If you have a death wish. Do _you _want to tell everyone that they have to leave?" He paused. "Did I mention Miranda is here?"

"Oh, God," Shepard laughed. "Forget I said anything. Giving orders to her always felt like I was stepping onto a minefield."

Garrus grinned and rose to his feet. "I think you'll be the one _taking _orders for a while. From Miranda. From Tali. From all of us who care about you." He crossed his arms. "In fact, here's my first order: take it easy, old friend. We need you up and on your feet here soon. _Tali _needs you."

For a miraculous moment, the internal conflicts stopped, and Shepard felt only gratitude, only confidence. He snapped a salute, ignoring the sting in his arm. "Aye, sir."

The turian scanned his face, as though seeking any remnants of the conflict which he'd spotted playing out on it earlier, and then he moved to the door, opened it, and looked over his shoulder. "I'll be by again soon. Rest well, Shepard."

He left. Silence returned, and Commander Shepard was left once more to the discomfiture of his mind.

* * *

There was one part of the hospital, Liara learned, that she had not included in her search for Javik. As she'd told Tali, she had gone from one end of the building to the other, searching every room (even daring, at one point, to sneak into one of the more potentially suspect male bathrooms, which was thankfully empty) and scaling every level, all to no avail.

Her chat with the quarian proved calming, though, and it was with new eyes that she had resumed her search, pondering where Javik might have gone to be alone. She knew with surety that he had not left the hospital – he had a hard time showing it, but he felt just as much loyalty to Commander Shepard as any other member of the Normandy's crew – but his mind, sculpted in a long-gone era she did not understand, did not see the confines of the facility as she did.

The asari allowed herself a small smile as she climbed the normally sealed-off stairs which led to the roof. The fact that the stairwell's door had been ajar, propped open by a bucket, clued her in to the fact that Javik had passed through. Law-abiding citizen that she was, she would never have considered going to the roof – and it was likely on that knowledge that he had counted, hoping that he would not be disturbed, for whatever reason.

Liara squinted against the bright sun as she emerged on the hospital's roof, and she shuddered slightly as the cool air touched her blue skin. From what she had gathered, London's part of the Earth was going through its winter, though it was early yet in the season; within a few of the planet's months, the temperatures would dive even lower. For her at least, it was quite cold enough, and she hugged her arms tightly about her torso, scrounging for warmth.

Almost immediately she saw him, the man who inspired in her both an unexpectedly pure love and a certain wariness. Javik was sitting, his legs dangling over the edge of the roof, hands cupped in his lap, all four eyes closed, his magnificent red armor gleaming in the sunlight.

His acute sensory abilities should have easily alerted him to Liara's presence, but he was apparently sunk deep into meditation, and gave no indication of noticing as she walked quietly up to him and sat down, letting her own legs dangle alongside his. She watched him for a moment, her expressive eyes unable to suppress concern.

"Javik?" she said softly, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

This simple act yielded consequences she had not foreseen. She gasped as she was abruptly linked to him, her mind flooded with disjointed and unnervingly vivid images from his thoughts – she saw other protheans, happy at first but then suddenly dark and menacing, and she saw worlds which were at once familiar and foreign, and she saw Collectors, which she had learned were not an alien race at all but the prothean equivalent of her own cycle's husks – and then, just as abruptly as the link was forged, it was severed.

Javik's head jerked as his eyes snapped open. Mouth agape, he stared first out at the ruins of London which lay before their several-stories-high perch, and then turned slowly to her.

"Liara," he said at length, exhaling, and sounding uncertain even of that simple acknowledgment. He returned his gaze to the city, and though Liara waited for him to continue, no more words were forthcoming.

Every sense the asari possessed screamed out, telling her that Javik was in distress. Ever since their bonding on Thessia, her innate empathy had become particularly potent with him – but she did not even need that link, now, to discern his emotional condition. As foreign as prothean body language was to her, there were certain universal indicators she had learned to recognize, and he was displaying every one of them.

She lowered her hand from his shoulder and gingerly laid it atop one of his, giving it a light squeeze. "I've been looking for you. I was…worried."

"You need not have been," the prothean said curtly, and then, more gently, added, "but – I apologize. I did not mean to cause alarm."

Annoyance flared briefly in Liara, as it often did while talking with him. He was constantly and stubbornly insistent on keeping barriers between himself and others, and even after their intimacy, it seemed a constant struggle to get closer to him. "Something's bothering you. Please, tell me what it is."

"I am fine," Javik said, voice curt once more, keeping his gaze stubbornly averted.

Liara found her patience wearing thin rapidly, and she cursed her heart. Why did she have to fall in love with _him? _Why this man, who had once only referred to her condescendingly as 'asari,' this man who was so – _impossible_? "Then why are you avoiding me?" she demanded, withdrawing her hand and pulling her legs up so that she could turn her entire body to face him. "And the others – you didn't so much as mention that you were coming up here – "

"I was not aware that I was required to report my movements to the others," Javik cut her off, head whipping in her direction. "And I am _not_ avoiding you. I simply wished to be alone with my thoughts."

Liara furrowed her brow. His eyes were meeting hers now, and she had no intention of being the first to look away. "I don't know about _your _cycle," she said in a low, slightly quavering voice, keeping her frustration barely in check, "but in _this _one, it's generally considered rude to just _disappear_ without warning anyone." She narrowed her eyes accusingly. "Like the woman who loves you."

This last appeared to take Javik aback. His mouth worked silently for a moment, his four eyes roving about her face, and then he turned away. To Liara's surprise, he laughed, and when he spoke again, the hardness was gone from his voice. "You are a fascinating woman. In my time, females were rarely so…" he glanced down, searching for the right words. "…outspoken. Bold. They were expected to know their place." His thin lips formed into a rare smile. "For my sake, I will not repeat this error. And I apologize once more."

Liara's anger faded, a change that was reflected as her face softened. This was the side of Javik that intrigued her, that made her feel affection, and which she had touched upon so potently on Thessia, a side of him that he seemed loathe to share. A lifetime of war and pain, she knew, had sculpted him in this way, and she felt a sudden and powerful determination that _she _would be the one to reshape him, to show him a better and happier life.

She scooted closer to him. "I have a hard time believing that," she said lightly. "If all the men in your cycle were as maddening as you, I don't think the women would be able to contain their frustration."

Javik looked at her sidelong, his smile widening, and then it faltered, fading into a frown. He fixed his eyes on the sweeping view of London. "Being in this place has…shaken me," he said, his deep voice quiet and distant. "Out of the fantasy my mind was constructing. Back into reality."

"What do you mean?" Liara urged gently as he fell silent.

Javik regarded her contemplatively, and then stared down at his hands. "Before the battle here, against the Reapers, I told the Commander something I have not told anyone else. Before my people were wiped out, I commanded a ship much like the Normandy. I had a loyal and brave crew. I counted each and every one of them among my friends." A gleam lit his eye as he relived his memories. "We fought the machines with ferocity and courage. Many of their corrupt tools were broken by our hand. It was illogical, but we became convinced that we could fight for the rest of our lives this way. That we could perhaps even defeat the Reapers on our own. Such was our feeling of invincibility.

"But then, after a time – " the prothean's eyes dulled. "Our actions drew the ire of the enemy. My crew was divided and broken. All of my dear friends and comrades were turned into the hollow shells of life you call 'husks,' and turned against me. I became hunted down by the same people I had once fought with, side by side."

Liara could feel the despair this recollection was bringing to him, and she placed a hand on his knee. "Javik, I - I'm so sorry – "

He merely shook his head and continued speaking. "Finally I stopped running, and confronted them. One by one, I killed them. I slit their throats. There was no need to feel remorse. They were no longer my friends, and I had mourned their passing long ago." He turned and faced her, his eyes boring into hers. "I made a promise that day. That once the Reapers were no more, I would go back to the place where I had ended their lives and join my crew."

"I don't – " Liara began, but then her mind caught up to what he was saying, and her eyes widened in alarm. "Javik! You don't mean – "

Javik clambered to his feet and walked several paces away before swiveling back to her. "The taking of one's own life for such reasons would not be a thing to despair," he said, speaking quickly, sounding as though he were trying to convince her of his logic – or, perhaps, himself. "It would be a proper and even _honorable _death. An appeal to the souls of my slain comrades. A testimony to our bond, our loyalty to each other. When all hope was lost, every prothean warrior sought to die on the same soil as the rest of his men."

Liara stood, now, too, and walked up close. "Javik, what you're talking about doesn't make any _sense_!"

She gasped in surprise as the prothean, eyes wild, three-fingered hands grasping at the air, replied in a loud and desperate voice, communicating all of the internal grappling he had been enduring. "I made a _promise_! I swore to my crew that I would join them when I finished our fight! What – what kind of _warrior _commits himself to a path, and then strays from it at the slightest selfish _whim_?"

It was impossible, in such an emotionally charged atmosphere, for the empathetic Liara to fight the tears that suddenly blurred her vision, her unique link with Javik giving her a very real part of his burden, their innate telepathic abilities grating and colliding; but it was with anger and passion, not sadness, that she practically shouted her reply, clenching her fists tightly.

"_Selfish? _You talk about _killing _yourself, and you have the gall to talk about _selfish_?" She stormed up to the now-speechless Javik, stopping so that her face was inches from his. "What about _us? _You have _friends _here, people who _care _about you! And you want to – to – commit _suicide_ for the sake of some souls that have been dead for _thousands of years_?" She slammed her fists, weakly and without force, against his breastplate. "You put your crew to rest a long time ago, but _we're _still alive! Your friends and crew! I – _I'm _still alive!" Her glistening blue eyes looked pleadingly into his. "_I_…still need you here. I still _want _you here."

Javik stared at her, mouth open. After this outpouring of emotion, Liara felt suddenly very weak, and she slumped to her knees, resting one hand on her forehead (which, she dimly observed, was throbbing) and then using it to rub at her eyes, wiping away her tears.

A rustling sound informed her that Javik was leaning down to her level, resting on one of his armored knees. His hand reached out and cupped her chin, tilting it up so that they were looking at each other, and she saw on his face more gentle an expression than had ever been on it throughout the months they'd known each other, more gentle even than their unexpected bonding on the asari homeworld.

"Very well," he said softly, and ran his finger across her cheek, delicately collecting the tears she had missed. This simple act, combined with the feelings he was unconsciously emanating, was more poignant an apology, more meaningful a commitment, than any words could have managed.

A bright smile lit Liara's face, and the asari, sniffling, fell into her prothean lover's arms; and Javik, for the first time since he had been awakened on Eden Prime, for the first time since he had killed his former crewmates, for the first time in countless years, acceded without shame to a feeling other than hate.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Sorry for the slight delay on posting this chapter.

Even though she enjoyed her conversation with Liara, Tali was inwardly glad when it ended, allowing her to return to Shepard. Leaving his room to stretch her legs had seemed a simple enough proposition, but it was only a matter of minutes before she began to feel antsy, her mind bombarding her with paranoid ideas – what if something went wrong while she was away? What if his condition worsened, and she was not around to help, instead lounging on the floor below and having a casual chat with an old friend?

And so it was with a purposeful stride that she made her way through the hospital corridors, across the lobby (where she spotted Wrex and Grunt engaged in some bizarre kind of recreational wrestling while Jorgal Finn stood by griping irritably about one thing or other) and up the stairs. In her distracted state, she did not notice Garrus trotting in the opposite direction until she bumped into him, releasing a small squeak of surprise and stumbling back.

The turian placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Whoa, there. What's the rush?"

Tali felt the inevitable blush creeping up her cheeks. She was a grown woman – would she ever stop bumbling around like a girl before her Pilgrimage? "Sorry, Garrus. I wasn't paying attention. Well – obviously."

"Mm." Garrus pulled his hand back and let it rest in his pocket. "You don't have to worry. I just got done talking with him a while ago. I left him in one piece."

These words proved more comforting than Tali would have imagined, and her body relaxed perceptibly, although she knew that she would have to verify his claim with her own eyes to fully silence her paranoia. "Good." She laughed. "It's – it seems a little silly, now, but I _was _starting to get worried."

"It's not silly at all, Tali," Garrus said kindly, and then, teasingly, added, "well, maybe a little. You weren't gone for that long, you know. Get up to anything interesting?"

Tali nodded. "Yes. I had a nice chat with Liara."

"She had me a little concerned there earlier," Garrus told her, crossing his arms and resting one hand thoughtfully on his chin. "Said she was looking for Javik. Seemed…I don't know, _different_." He fixed his dark eyes on her. "Did you notice anything? Is she okay?"

Tali's first instinct was to tell him the truth, and share the baffling fact that Liara was in love with Javik – in fact, she wanted nothing more than to share it with someone else, to hear their own disbelief and, in doing so, feel that her own was vindicated – but then she thought better of it, was strongly convinced that it was not _her _place to disclose the information. When the unlikely couple was ready, she knew, they would tell everyone themselves.

"She's fine," she said, attempting to sound confidently nonchalant. "I'm sure she'll tell you all about it herself." She inched around him and resumed her upward climb, still facing him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make sure you really _did _leave my boyfriend in one piece."

Garrus watched her until she turned the corner, and then carried on down the stairs, shaking his head. He knew Tali very well, and she was hardly the best liar in the galaxy to begin with; he had seen through her immediately. He was not troubled by her withholding the truth, as it was by no means a serious matter – but as he neared the lobby, he mused, nonetheless, on what revelation might soon be coming his way. Whatever it was, with the exotic blend of aliens he called friends, it was sure to be anything but boring.

* * *

In his solitude, Shepard's guilt and frustration gnawed at him. He was determined not to give way to any physical exertion of those emotions, for he was afraid of how they might manifest themselves, whether through screaming or violence (to his surroundings or himself or both), perhaps even a savage combination of the two – and so he kept it all bottled up. He knew it was only a matter of time until it built up to the point where it could no longer be contained. He had to find some way, soon, to vent, to shed his feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, and he had to do it before he could inadvertently hurt Tali.

He squinted over the swell of his chest at the window that adorned the wall on the far side of the room. The curtains were drawn, but they were sheer and almost transparent, and he could discern the gradient sky of a tranquil sunset and the charred remains of some tall buildings, reaching up like the arms of the damned. He yearned strongly to be out there, to be _anywhere _else, to be on his feet, to be helping with the reconstruction of the city, to feel _useful_ – and, more basically, to have something that might take his mind off of

_Shepard-Commander_

He snarled, a basic venting of the frustration which was reaching an unbearable zenith within, and, without thinking, tossed the sheets of his bed aside. Cool air touched his bare legs, making his hair stand up on end – he realized that he was only clad in a sort of slip that covered his groin, but modesty was not a concern at that moment; indeed, he felt liberated without the confinements of the sheets, as though he'd taken a first step to freedom. Ignoring the theretofore latent pain throughout his body, which flared up now in protest against his impulsive movements, he tore the injection tubes out of his wrists and swung out of the bed, getting to his feet before he could have any second thoughts.

He staggered and fell forward immediately, only preventing an unpleasant collision with the floor by thrusting his hands out and landing on his knees. He swore at the agony that resulted, but was pleased that he remained fully conscious – blackness did not clutch at his vision, as it surely would have a week prior.

Shepard stood back up, inhaling and exhaling heavily, steeling his resolve, and attempted to limp toward the window. His legs did not comply; he found himself tumbling to the ground again. He felt some sweat drip down from the tip of his nose to the floor, and stared intently at the tiny puddle that formed there. He was improving, that much could be confirmed by the progress, however insignificant, that he had managed – but he was not healed, yet, and if he stubbornly insisted on continuing his efforts to walk, he knew that he might well push his body past its fragile limits.

He glimpsed the glowing reflection of the setting sun on the floor just ahead. He was not ready to give up.

_Tali needs you_

Tali had come so far to see him, had put aside everything to be there with him. _All_ of his friends, apparently, had done so, according to Garrus. He was determined not to keep them waiting for long, not to keep _Tali _waiting for long. He envisioned the day when he would be able to stand and run to her, sweep her up in his arms, and hold her close, and it was that image that he kept fixed in his mind's eye, letting it fuel his efforts, as he crawled forward, wincing with every burst of pain when his knees touched the floor, inching closer and closer to the window.

When finally he reached it, he got hold of the windowsill and heaved himself to his feet, legs quaking as they struggled to support his weight. He eased their load by resting his arm against the window and leaning heavily on it, panting slightly. He was unsettlingly tired from having traveled such a short distance, but his eye gleamed with triumph nonetheless. He had done it, and he felt one step closer to regaining some semblance of his old strength.

The trial done, he basked in the view of the city that his window afforded, every outward breath fogging up a portion of the glass. He could feel some of the cold air of the winter evening through the seams, and a beautiful evening it was; the entire region was basked in the dim, warm glow cast by the sun as it meandered its way toward the other parts of the globe, leaving London in ever-increasing darkness. Long shadows cast by ruined buildings zigzagged across pockmarked streets, and periodically, a rare vehicle would spawn from one pocket of gloom before disappearing into another, precious signs of life.

A weary smile tugged at Shepard's lips. What a day it had been, from being reunited with Tali, to speaking with Garrus, to his simple struggle to assert some control over his body after a delirious eternity. Looking out the window, now, feeling the tantalizingly close outdoor air, and knowing that all of his friends were near, he took heart, and could almost forget his guilt.

Almost.

"Shepard?"

The commander turned around and saw Tali standing in the entrance to his room, one hand still clutching the doorknob, her glowing eyes staring at him, appearing shocked. He wondered why, at first, before remembering that he was out of his bed. His fear that this might worry her clashed with a stubborn defiance. Why should he need permission for something so simple?

Still, just as it had been _her _image that strengthened him during his unbearable journey from the rubble to the hospital, so it had been during his crawl to the window, and he felt glad that she could be seeing him now on his own two feet rather than prone in some hospital cot, that she could see for herself that he was recovering, that he was fighting his way to health, for her.

He was opening his mouth to greet her confidently, explain his impulsive urge to test his body, when suddenly the young quarian was shoved unceremoniously aside by a hulking krogan dressed in blue robes. What unnerved Shepard was not so much the unexpected interruption as it was the steely, no-nonsense expression on the alien's face – not to mention the glowing omni-tool that he wielded like a weapon.

"What kind of drugs did they put in your injection tubes?" the krogan snapped, and Shepard blinked bemusedly. Tali, recovering from the surprise of nearly being trampled, giggled, which only furthered her boyfriend's confusion. One of the krogan's meaty hands lashed out and wrapped around his arm; he hissed at the pain that resulted, but once again was unable to say anything, as he found himself seemingly flying through the air, feet skimming along the floor, being carried back to his bed.

"Wins a few gun fights and thinks he's invincible," the krogan grumbled, dumping Shepard onto his mattress and pulling his sheets up with terrifying precision. "See where your skill with a gun gets you when your shredded organs burst. Stop squirming," he barked as his unwilling patient tried to lift a hand, to ask him what exactly was happening, and then he set to reinserting the various wires and tubes of the room's medical machinery.

Shepard watched this resignedly, musing on the fact that if this krogan intended to do him bodily harm rather than force him back into recuperation, he would clearly have faced no resistance. Tali wandered up casually, arms crossed, her amusement with the situation obvious even despite the visor covering her face.

"Judging by your expression, I'm assuming you two haven't met," she said, and Shepard, cocking an eyebrow and suppressing a smile at the smug tone of her voice, nodded. "Shepard, meet Urdnot Bont. He's a – "

"The krogan doctor," Shepard said, understanding dawning in his eyes, remembering Garrus's mention of Wrex's various traveling companions. He turned to the blue-robed doctor, who was waving his omni-tool over his patient's torso, scowl no less fierce now that he was back in bed. "It's, uh – nice to meet you, Bont."

Bont harrumphed and deactivated his omni-tool, stomping over so that his wide face hovered over Shepard's. "I would've preferred my first impression of you not to be of a fool," he said, and the commander could only blink again, taken aback by his krogan bluntness, something his human mind still had difficulty adjusting to. "What were you doing out of your bed?"

Shepard's eyes flitted in Tali's direction. "Well, I, uh – I felt like moving, so I decided to go over to the window and – "

"You felt like _moving_?" the krogan echoed, his voice letting one and all know that he could not fathom the stupidity of what he was hearing. He jabbed a finger into Shepard's chest, poking at it several times to emphasize his words. "Your body is just _barely_ more functional than a corpse. You wouldn't be alive if you didn't have all of those implants the human terrorists gave you. You should be thanking whatever gods you believe in that you're _breathing_ right now, not waltzing around like a child during a courting ritual."

Shepard found, to his amusement, that he could not muster any indignation or anger in the face of this apparent rudeness; it was altogether obvious, even with all of Bont's bluster, that he had nothing but kind intentions. In any case, his dealings with krogan throughout his travels had given him some clue on how to deal with such situations, and now he grinned, meeting Bont's gaze. "I wanna hear more about this 'courting ritual,' doc."

Bont glared at him for a lingering moment, and then, mumbling vaguely under his breath about being surrounded by thickheaded morons, reactivated his omni-tool and set to busily interfacing it with Shepard's medical equipment. "I'm taking over your treatment. I don't want to see you out of your bed again before consulting me, first. The pyjaks running this place apparently have no standards when it comes to patient surveillance, but I assure you, _I_ will be watching you, Commander." One sharp, intelligent eye fixated on his face, as though to prove how serious he was. This was unnecessary – the tone of his voice alone left little room for doubt.

One of those very 'pyjaks' that Bont had referred to chose that moment to enter the room, a human doctor, tall and gaunt with a shockingly white beard, flanked by a turian dressed as a nurse. The human blinked owlishly at the scene before him, and then, noticing the krogan messing with the machinery, bustled forward. "Excuse me, sir, but what exactly do you think you're doing? That is fragile and _expensive _equipment – "

Bont whirled about to face the doctor, his blue robes flaring out dramatically. Shepard and Tali exchanged looks – this poor man had no idea what he was getting himself into. "I've been using more sophisticated equipment than this since before you were born, human," the krogan snapped, and then made his own advance, stopping so that his snout was nearly touching the flabbergasted man's nose. "Are you in charge here?"

The doctor's mouth worked noiselessly, his finger reaching up to adjust the archaic spectacles on his nose. "I – yes, I am Redmond Finnigan, and I direct – "

"Is this the kind of operation you run, mister _Finnigan_?" Bont cut him off, gesturing around the room in an all-encompassing kind of way. "Letting critically injured patients have free roam of the place, whether it could kill them or not?"

"I don't – what?" Finnigan stammered, his face struggling valiantly to settle on an indignant or confused expression, while the turian nurse backed surreptitiously out of the room, clearly wanting no part of the berating.

Ignoring the human's bafflement, Bont walked over to Shepard and planted his hand firmly on his shoulder. "I'm personally overseeing the Commander's treatment from this day forward, doctor Finnigan. If you have a problem with that – " Bont's face darkened menacingly, and he rolled his neck around. " – you can throw me out."

Finnigan raised a finger, stammering mutely, blinking profusely, and finally said, "That – that won't be necessary, mister, erm…?"

"Bont," the krogan barked.

"Yes, that won't be necessary, mister Bont," Finnigan said quickly. "But, uhm, if we – if I am to put you in charge of this case, I will need evidence of your qualifications – "

A new voice butted into the conversation, a very familiar voice indeed, and Shepard instantly felt a wide smile break out on his face. "_I'm _his qualification," the voice boomed, and Urdnot Wrex stomped into the room, followed closely by Grunt and an ever-disgruntled Jorgal Finn. Wrex's eye met Shepard's briefly, and the krogan leader gave a smiling wink before turning his attention to Finnigan, who now appeared ready to wet his trousers.

"Urdnot Bont is the best damned doctor in the galaxy," he said, crossing his arms. Grunt, fangs bared in a fierce grin, sidled around behind him, brushed delicately past Tali, and reached Shepard, extending a hand; the commander took it, beyond the point of caring about the reflexive pain that physical contact brought, and they shook vigorously. "He's been working medical magic on Illium for centuries." Wrex paused, regarding Bont for a moment before turning back to Finnigan. "Ever heard of the Aru Plague?"

"I – who are _you_?" Finnigan said, sounding more weary than upset.

"Urdnot Wrex," the blood red-helmeted krogan replied, jerking a thumb toward himself. "Leader of the Krogan Union, chief of clan Urdnot. And you should know that Bont over there is our Medical Researcher."

Finnigan shook his head as though to clear his thoughts. "Okay, yes, I – I've heard of the Aru Plague. Why?"

Wrex smirked. "Sure we're thinking of the same Aru Plague? The one that killed over a million beings a few hundred years ago – "

"_Yes_, I know what the Aru Plague was!"

Wrex walked over to Bont and patted the krogan doctor's shoulder. "Vaccine was developed by Bont. He cured the plague."

Something like reverential awe replaced the stress on Finnigan's face, and he stared at Bont. "Bont – _Bont_ – how did I not recognize that name? That was _you_?"

Bont waved a hand and looked away disinterestedly. "Yeah, that was me. Thanks for reminding me how old I am, Wrex."

"Anytime, doc," Wrex said, flashing another wink at Shepard.

Finnigan looked around at the gathered krogan dazedly, like he was seeing them for the first time, and then rubbed his forehead. "I…I wrote my thesis paper, in university, on your work, doctor Bont. Forgive me." He activated his omni-tool and tapped at it several times. "Please, if you'll just connect to my omni-tool, I'll transfer official authority on the Commander's medical care to you. Just a formality," he added hastily, as Bont cocked one brow and complied. "As far as I'm concerned, you're already in charge – just want to avoid regulatory conflicts, you understand – "

"Done," Bont said, interrupting his babbling. Finnigan bowed his head curtly and swirled around to leave the room, releasing a mousey squeak of fear as he nearly collided with Jorgal Finn, who watched him scoot out the door with clear disdain.

"You sure have a way with people," Shepard commented wryly, grinning up at Wrex.

The krogan chief turned fully to face him, looking him up and down, his own smile widening. He shook his great head and moved in closer; Shepard offered a hand, and he took it, but Wrex was not content with a mere handshake. He pulled the commander so that his torso flew upright and gave him what might have qualified as a gentle hug, to a krogan – for Shepard, it felt like his bones might shatter. The pain was overwhelmed by his gladness, and he laughed, but was relieved nonetheless when he was released, and fell back to the mattress. Tali hovered worriedly nearby, clearly not pleased with the amount of roughhousing taking place. Any objections she might have considered voicing were quashed by the look on her boyfriend's face – she had no desire to ruin the moment.

"I'm starting to think you're immune to death, Shepard," Wrex rumbled warmly, punching the man's shoulder. Tali felt her fist clench in reflexive tension, feeling fear flare up that Shepard was being pushed too far, but he showed no indication of pain except for a slight wince. "Toughest son of a bitch I know. And you're not even a krogan."

"Yeah, well, they can make us humans pretty tough, too," Shepard replied easily, shifting a little in his bed. "Thanks for coming, Wrex."

Wrex shrugged, smile widening. "I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd drop by."

Grunt snorted. "I didn't think Tuchanka qualified as 'in the neighborhood.'" He regarded Shepard. "You should've seen him. Dropped everything he was doing as soon as the newsfeed announced that you were alive. Would've thought he was in love with you, or something."

"You're one to talk," Wrex retorted, eye twinkling. "Soon as I mentioned I was coming here, you practically jumped out of your scales at the chance to tag along." He lightly shoved at the tank-bred krogan, who chuckled.

"I don't mean to butt in, here, but are we going to have to fight over him?" Tali piped up sardonically, crossing her arms and nodding toward Shepard. "If I haven't made it clear enough already, he's _kind_ of taken."

Wrex burst into laughter and affectionately ruffled the top of Tali's head. Nearby, Jorgal Finn released a strange hiss-snarl of disgust, evidently displeased by the distinctly alien gesture. "Don't worry. Even though Bont is making a big show – " he jerked a thumb in the doctor's direction. " – we all know who's _really _in charge here." He looked around until his eyes fell on the bedside chair, and he made his way over to it, sitting down and scooting close to Shepard. "So. How much longer you gonna laze around in that soft bed?"

Tali opened her mouth to object to this indelicate wording, but Bont's exasperated exhalation preempted her. "If this nitwit had his way, he'd be running laps around the cafeteria right now. I don't know what it is with you warrior types. You think because you beat a few punks dressed in merc armor, nothing can kill you." He glowered at the commander, who could only blink sheepishly. "Was standing by the window when I got here. Reckless, irresponsible – "

"Ha-_ha!_" Grunt roared in a youthful display of exuberance, and ruffled Shepard's thinly cut hair just as his chief had ruffled Tali's head. "That's Commander Shepard for you. A few flesh wounds can't keep this human down." He whirled around to Bont, eyes gleaming, reminding Shepard of how _young _the tank-bred was, really, and how childlike his respect was for him. It had always made him feel a bit embarrassed. "Have I ever told you about when Shepard led us into the Collector Base? If there was ever a glorious battle, _that _was it – "

"Here we go again," Wrex muttered, rolling his eyes. A small smile still playing on his scaly lips, he turned to Shepard, talking low so as not to interrupt Grunt, who was speaking animatedly to Bont. "Tells this story to anyone who'll listen. I blame you."

Shepard set his face into a solemn expression and nodded gravely. "Fair enough."

Wrex chortled. Jorgal Finn had apparently endured enough of the general joviality, and suddenly waded into the group, thrusting himself snout-to-snout with Grunt, whose recollections trailed off into a slight growl. "Enough of this sniveling_ pandering_. The three of you give krogan a bad name, bowing to this human like he is some kind of warrior-god, placing yourselves on a level below him. It is for _this _reason that I am here in the first place." He stomped over to Shepard, and for the first time in a long while, the commander felt himself growing wary, truly wary, in the presence of a krogan who was not outright combative. It reminded him strongly of his early encounters with Wrex, his uncertainty of whether he was speaking to a friend or foe.

"I am Jorgal Finn," the diplomat declared with a grandiosity that might have been amusing in other circumstances, and, indeed, the other three krogan looked remarkably bored, as though they'd heard it all before. Both Shepard and Tali, however, detected what impressed them as an underlying danger in Finn, a long-dormant bomb set to detonate; there was bluster, but there was also real hateful pride, the kind of trait that the galaxy's krogan detractors often pointed to as justification for their platform. "Ordained leader and representative of clan Jorgal. I am here to ensure that you know this: clan Urdnot does not stand alone in acknowledging your opposition to the genophage."

His cold, shrewd eyes narrowed into meaningful slits as he continued. "The krogan have a long memory. We do not forgive transgressions easily. Nor do we forget those who have done right by us. Thanks to your actions, your people will have nothing to fear when our cleansing fire issues forth from Tuchanka. Indeed, if you play your cards right – " He tucked his arms into the folds of his robes. " – perhaps you will even benefit."

"Get out of here, Finn," Wrex said exasperatedly, standing and pointing to the door. "Shepard's got enough on his plate without you piling on your ignorant varren dung."

Finn glared at him briefly and then nodded down at Shepard. "I have spoken my piece. Remember it well, Commander." And then he turned and left the room, black robes billowing out behind him.

Wrex sat back down. "Sorry about that, Shepard. Bakara insisted that I let him come along. Show of good faith to the other clans. Make them feel involved. All a bunch of political drivel I don't have time for."

Shepard's gaze lingered on the doorway for another moment. He turned to Wrex and shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Garrus mentioned he was here. It was – _interesting_ to meet him." He smiled. "'Cleansing fire,' huh?"

Wrex snorted, but his eyes darkened. "Yeah. 'Cleansing fire.' Finn and his cronies in Jorgal are big on _tradition_. Y'know, the kind of tradition that led to galactic war. If Finn had any kind of _real_ power, he'd throw our people against the perpetrators of the genophage." He stared at the spot where Finn had stood moments before. "Bunch of fools."

Shepard rubbed the stubble on his jaw. He remembered how the salarian government's leader, the dalatrass, had tried to convince him _not _to disperse the genophage cure, how she had warned him that a resurgent krogan would surely seek retribution against her people and the turians, leading to another bloody war. He took comfort in the fact that Wrex's hold on his new government appeared strong, despite the ever-looming specter of warmongers like Jorgal Finn. Hoping to communicate some of that comfort to Wrex, he said lightly, "We've got nothing to worry about. Not while Urdnot _Wrex _is running the show." He cocked his head to one side. "How's Bakara?"

Wrex brightened. "She's good. Considering she didn't even let STG captivity drag her down, I guess that's no surprise." He leaned in. "You talk about _me _running the show, but I gotta tell you, Shepard, if I didn't have her, the situation on Tuchanka right now would be a lot worse."

"What's she been working on?" Tali piped up curiously.

"The krogan clans are all united right now, but there are still pockets of resistance here and there," Wrex told her. "Upstart 'tribes,' mostly. Members of bigger clans that seceded and are trying to form their own. I wanted to just sweep in and give them an ultimatum: either join the Union, or leave Tuchanka. Bakara didn't like that. She convinced me to hold off, and she's been traveling around the planet, talking to those tribes and giving them incentives to join the united clans."

"That sounds awfully _diplomatic_," Shepard said wryly.

Wrex laughed. "Yeah, well, it's working. At this rate, the entire krogan race will be united under one flag. Of course, we still have morons like Finn trying to change the way we carry that flag." He waved dismissively. "They won't get anywhere. They're a minority. Just barely, but still."

"I hear the genophage cure is working well," Shepard said, raising a brow. "Got any little Wrexes running around yet?"

"That's a work in progress," Wrex said cryptically, leaning back comfortably. "You might remember, I mentioned on Tuchanka during the war that Bakara wanted to name our first kid 'Mordin.' She got her way there. I demanded naming rights for the next one." His fangs bared in a slow grin. "How's it feel, knowing there's a little krogan crawling around named 'Shepard?'"

Shepard's mouth gaped open. "That's – seriously?"

Wrex nodded. "Was the easiest decision I've ever made. No need to thank me. But I expect you to name any kids _you_ might have after me," he added jokingly.

Shepard felt a warmth creeping through him similar to the one he'd felt after hearing, from Garrus, that the genophage cure had proven effective. After such a hard few years, Wrex finally seemed to be settling down. If anyone deserved to live comfortably with a healthy family – even if certain members of that family happened to boast the unnerving trait of sharing his name – it was him. Outwardly, he could only smile more widely, hoping that it expressed his thoughts.

"I'm a little hurt, Wrex," Tali said lightly. "I assumed you'd name all of your kids after me, being your favorite friend and all."

Wrex looked up at her. "You're joking now, but we'll see how many wisecracks you can come up with when you meet the daughter we name 'Tali.'"

The quarian woman shook her head amusedly and sat gently down on the edge of Shepard's mattress. Bont suddenly swooped in and jabbed a new tube none-too-gently into the commander's wrist, drawing a surprised hiss.

"New chemical I developed on Illium a few years ago," the doctor explained in a bored kind of way, running his omni-tool over it for a moment before deactivating it and looking at Wrex. "I'll be downstairs if you need me. Don't let _him _– " he pointed accusingly at Shepard. " – get out of bed again while you're here." He paused and glanced at the tube he'd just inserted, and then up at Tali. "Don't let him drink anything but plain water, either."

Tali, nonplussed but knowing well enough not to question him, nodded. As Bont left the room, Grunt moved in closer to the others and beamed down at Shepard. "Finished telling him about the Collector Base," he said proudly. "Didn't show it, but I could tell he was impressed. No krogan could _help _but be impressed by such a bloody battle, won by great warriors."

"You tell that story so much you might as well write it down and sell it on the extranet," Wrex mumbled. Grunt blinked down at him as though honestly confused by the irony in his chief's voice.

Shepard felt Tali's hand begin to gently massage his shoulder. He reached up and clasped it, looking from one krogan to the other. "It's been great to see you again. What's next for you guys?"

Wrex shrugged noncommittally. "Easy enough for you to guess what I've got on _my _plate. Gotta keep the clans in line. Keep the krogan focused on building a future instead of dwelling on the past. That's a lifetime of work right there."

Shepard appraised him thoughtfully. "Regretting your chosen line of work, Wrex?"

Wrex's eyes steeled, and he shook his head firmly. "Not for a second. Might be a whole lot of dull politics, but it's too important to drop." He smirked. "And anyway, on Tuchanka, things can never stay boring for too long. I'll find ways to keep entertained."

"I'm sure you will," Shepard said dryly, and turned to Grunt. "How about you?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind that I'll stand with the chief every step of the way," Grunt said, planting a hand on Wrex's shoulder. "Thanks to you, Shepard, I have a place in things. I _am _krogan. I will not waste that." He paused for a moment, and then grinned. "But maybe I'll go sightseeing every now and then. It's a big galaxy. Lots I haven't seen."

"You remember Aralakh company?" Wrex asked. Shepard nodded. "Grunt's still leading it. Not a single other krogan that could do the job better. I'll keep him busy."

Recollecting Aralakh company dredged up unpleasant memories, of fighting through the dark, closed rachni den on a planet in the Attican Traverse, and more poignantly still, how the entire krogan force had been wiped out holding off the indoctrinated creatures. Grunt, himself, had appeared to die during the desperate escape from the cave system, only to stagger out just as Shepard's crew boarded their shuttle, soaked in blood and dazedly asking for food.

The guilt he felt at this memory was an uncomplicated one, as it was _he _who had been forced to ask Grunt to command his troops to hold off the Reapers, as sure a death sentence as though he shot them himself. He looked up at Grunt, brow furrowing. "Listen, Grunt – about Aralakh company. I never got the chance to say – "

"There's no need, Shepard," Grunt interrupted him, firmly cleaving the air with one hand. "Those krogan died glorious deaths, spilling Reaper blood and taking two dozen enemies for every comrade they lost. No warrior could ask for a better death." He indicated first himself and then both the commander and Tali. "And our being here now is testimony that their sacrifice was _worth it_. They didn't die in vain."

Shepard gazed down at the sheets of his bed for a moment. He knew his friend spoke the truth, but as ever, soothing words did little to assuage feelings of guilt, belief that deaths were on his shoulders. As a longtime soldier, a person who specialized in taking life, he had once assumed that such emotions would dull over time, but somehow, it seemed they only grew worse, piling up incrementally. "Right," he said quietly.

Wrex stood and stretched his arms skyward before bringing them down, reaching out to take one of Shepard's hands and clutch it decisively. "We'll get out of your way. Getting late." He nodded toward the window, which now looked out into the black sky of night. "I know Bont isn't the easiest guy to get along with, but you're in good hands. Follow his advice. Don't push your luck any more than you already have."

Shepard smiled. "Sure. He didn't let me get a word in edgewise, so thank him for me. I appreciate what he's doing. And – " he paused. "Thanks again for coming, Wrex."

The krogan chief grinned back at him, and then moved over to stand patiently by the door. Grunt took the same hand that Wrex had just shaken and held it. "See you soon, Shepard," he said. "I know you're just itching to get out there and kick some more ass."

Shepard laughed. "You know me too well, Grunt. Thanks."

The tank-bred beamed at him with that childlike respect, and then joined Wrex in walking out the door, closing it with surprising delicacy behind him.

* * *

As soon as they were alone, Tali sprung to her feet and whirled about to face Shepard, her glowing eyes accusing him under her purple visor. "What were you doing out of your bed? Are you trying to get yourself killed for _real_?"

Shepard blinked at her. "Tali, I – " He trailed off into a sigh as he realized he had no good explanation. Even the truth, that he had been frustrated with his condition and needed to feel in control, however briefly, sounded hollow and selfish to him now. "It was dumb. I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't mean to worry anyone. Least of all you."

Tali stared piercingly at him, and then her gaze softened, and she took assumed the bedside chair, reaching out and taking his hands into hers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just…" She, too, sighed. "You've got me on edge, you _boshtet_." There was no venom in her voice; she spoke softly, teasingly.

Shepard smiled warmly at her, feeling that familiar flutter in his stomach, a lightness that he only felt when with her, hearing the emotions that she so clearly expressed in her lovely voice. "Sorry." He frowned a little. "Like I said, it was dumb. But I just feel so – helpless. Trapped. I've been in here for a while now. I want to be out _there._ " He nodded toward the window. "I want to be with my friends. Enjoy them. Enjoy _you_. I hate feeling like a burden."

"Your friends are all _here _to be with you and enjoy you," Tali reminded him, reaching up and lightly running her hand across his forehead. He closed his eyes, her touch making him feel at peace. "_I'm _here. Almost died getting here, too." She giggled. "And you're _not _a burden. You've taken all of our burdens for _years_, willingly. We're just happy you're alive."

Shepard's eyes snapped open. "You almost _died_?"

"Oh, _Keelah_. Me and my big mouth." Tali shook her head. "I was in a rush to get here, so…I didn't exactly exercise good judgment when I chose our transport shuttle. It was a piece of scrap metal. Started falling apart when we entered the Sol system. Not a big deal, everyone got out okay, Wrex saved us – "

Her choice of words piqued Shepard's interest. "'Everyone?' Who else was on the shuttle?"

"My auntie Raan, and admiral Koris," Tali told him. "They both insisted on coming along. They're back on the _Kalros _now – Wrex's ship, it's really nice, wait till you see it – but they'll be here soon, I'm sure."

Shepard nodded slowly, and then winced. "Koris, huh?"

Tali laughed and slapped lightly at his shoulder. "_Yes, _Koris. And don't you dare make fun of him, mister. He _really _wanted to see you. He was a big help on the shuttle, too."

"Okay, okay." Shepard chuckled. He looked into her eyes for a moment, and then pulled one of her gloved hands to his mouth, kissing it. "I really am sorry for worrying you, Tali."

Tali felt any remaining irritability with his behavior melting away immediately. She blushed slightly beneath her visor. "I understand that you're frustrated," she told him softly, extracting her hand and stroking his cheek with it. "And I know you. You won't let this keep you down for long. But – Shepard…if you don't take care of yourself for _you, _then please. Do it for me."

Shepard had not realized how badly he needed to be reminded of her perspective, had not realized just how practically _suicidal _his earlier actions had been. Those two warring voices in his head, he knew, were the truest threat he faced now, more potent than his physical injuries; his guilt over the millions of deaths resting on his shoulders could not control him, could not drive him to self-destruction, not while he still had so much to live for. Was that not why he had risen from the rubble in the first place?

Before he could say anything, Tali pulled her hands back and began to rummage through one of the pockets lining her suit. He watched this curiously until she pulled something out, keeping it concealed in her closed fists. She rested her hands on his chest and opened them up, revealing a nondescript rock, one that he recognized instantly.

"You remember it," Tali whispered, seeing the understanding on his face. He closed one of his coarse hands over the top of the rock, so that it was wrapped between his and hers. "This rock hasn't left my side since you gave it to me. Whenever we were apart, it reminded me that I was never really alone. And when I – " her eyes lowered. "When I thought you were – dead, it felt like…I still had a piece of you with me."

She looked up and locked eyes with him. "I consider this rock a promise. From you. When you gave it to me, I said, 'it's a start.' I meant that in more ways than one. I wanted this rock to be - a new beginning for us. A commitment to each other."

Shepard nodded silently, not daring to say anything. Tali continued, her voice firm but pleading, in a way. "I want you to promise me, now, that we won't let anything drive us apart again. Not politics, not war…" she smiled sadly. "And no more dying."

Shepard looked down at their hands. He was amazed, as ever, by the sureness and conviction of the love he felt welling up inside of him for this woman – the kind of love, he mused, that could make a man journey through hell if it meant being with her again. His frustrations, his inner demons, would not rule him anymore. This would be a commitment he made more solemnly than any other in his life, one more personal, and thus more powerful, than his dedication to defeating the Reapers.

His eyes met hers, and he nodded. "I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Just want to point out that the originally planned 9-10 chapter length will likely end up being closer to 14. Thanks as always to everyone who reads and reviews!

James Vega had not always been an early riser. Once, before haunting events on Horizon shook him to his core and changed him forever, he had enjoyed taking it easy, relaxing, and while he never once shunted his military responsibilities, the frequent emphasis on waking up at the crack of dawn or adopting erratic sleeping schedules had always grated on him the most. Now, though, he went to sleep every night with a vague sense of dread, and was always relieved when the world of his nightmares was broken by daylight.

The recently instated N7 operative stretched luxuriously on his improvised bed as the dull light of a cloudy morning filtered through the lobby windows. The 'bed' consisted of three chairs placed close together, and he grimaced as he felt the aching of his body. He had not been entirely joking when he remarked to Kaidan, the day prior, that the chairs could only be less comfortable if there were spikes built into them. Vega knew he would not have endured the discomfort of his present accommodations for anything less than to stand by his friends during a time of need.

He suppressed a gasp as a loud snore sounded off over his shoulder. He strained to look back in that direction, and saw Jorgal Finn, sound asleep, resting against the back of the chair on which Vega had set up the folded spare shirt serving as his pillow. Vega quirked a brow and glanced in the direction of the three other krogan, all of whom were on the opposite side of the lobby. Their distance was not surprising – as everyone had been settling down and falling asleep the night before, Finn and Wrex had seemed poised to come to blows, arguing as always. Sleeping far apart from his kin, Vega realized, was just a physical manifestation of the obvious ideological divides that separated Finn from the others.

The human soldier stood and straightened out his disheveled clothing. He briefly considered risking the cafeteria again – the food the day before had been among the worst he'd ever tasted, but he was _starving _ - and ultimately decided against it, his nose wrinkling slightly in disgust as he more fully recalled his last foray into the world of post-war hospital cooking. As ever, he wistfully yearned for his _abuela_'s home cooking, something not just to fill his stomach, but hone his senses and soothe his soul.

Garrus mumbled in his sleep nearby, something that sounded distinctly like _Sidonis_. Vega glanced in his direction, idly scratching at the beard steadily developing on his face (_Damn, I need a shave_). He liked Garrus very much – not only was he a solid and reliable soldier, he was also surprisingly relaxed and witty, uncommon for his species. The turian was sleeping close to Wrex – another alien, Vega found, whose personality didn't seem to jive with the stereotypes attributed to his kind - and the other two Urdnot krogan, as he had been the night before. Seeing them now, it occurred to Vega that they had all visited with Shepard already.

He glanced at the clock hanging over the reception desk, where one very grumpy-looking salarian was sipping from a cup and scrolling down some data displayed on his computer's haptic interface. It was barely six o'clock, and if the sleeping habits of the group on the previous day were any indication, no one else would be up for at least another hour. Perhaps, provided the commander was awake and well enough, it would be a good time for the N7 operative to have his chance to meet with him. Seeing him alive in the hospital room the other night had been nice, but Vega had grown to truly respect and admire Shepard, and wanted to speak with him personally, to express his unconditional support.

He was slipping into a black hoodie emblazoned with the N7 insignia when the hospital doors opened. Vega felt his curiosity pique – it seemed that the incoming traffic to the facility was very slow, and throughout the entire previous day, hardly anyone unfamiliar had come in. He watched as two quarians made their way into the lobby, one male and one female, the latter of whom was rather irritably waving away the hands of the former as he tried to help her along.

" – I _told_ you, Zaal, I'm fine," the woman said wearily, and the man hesitantly withdrew his hands. "I was exhausted and overheated, not crippled."

"We can't be too careful, Raan," the man named Koris said sagely. "We've stirred up enough disruption on Rannoch, I'm sure, merely by leaving so abruptly. It wouldn't do to return with one of our company deceased."

"A lovely thought," the woman, apparently named Raan, said dryly. She moved to the reception desk with Koris in tow. Vega rubbed at the stubble on his jaw again. These two were, in fact, not unfamiliar at all – hearing their voices and their names, he remembered meeting the two admirals on Rannoch, when the Normandy dropped Tali off there.

He inched casually closer, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, placing himself in listening range as the newcomers spoke with the salarian receptionist.

"Good morning," Raan said with the smooth cordiality of one who is accustomed to diplomacy, resting her hands on the desk. "If you could spare a moment, we need help finding a friend of ours."

The salarian looked irritably at the gloved fingers invading his workspace, and then spoke in a high-pitched voice, delivered rapidly, typical of his people. "That _is _why I'm here." He sighed dramatically and keyed up his computer. "Name."

Raan blinked at him and exchanged a look with Koris. Vega hid a grin under his hand. Quarian society was all about the greater good – if they had need for similar clerks, they would no doubt value being cooperative and affable. This resident Earth worker, accustomed to a society which embraced individualism and attitude, must have seemed jarringly outlandish. "Tali," she said, managing to sound unaffected. "Tali'Zorah."

The salarian (Vega caught a glimpse of the nametag pinned to his narrow chest, reading _Employee: Lirsar_) scrolled at his interface, his already thin lips pursed, giving the distinct impression that he just wanted to get it all over and done with. After a moment of this, he shook his head and looked up at the quarians. "There are no patients here by that name."

"Oh, she's not a patient," Koris said. "She's just here to visit someone who is – commander Shepard."

Vega nodded to himself. Of course their presence had to be related to Tali's – he had seen no other quarians on Earth since the final battle against the Reapers. He began to walk over to them more directly, aware that he was more qualified to fill them in than the clerk was.

He nearly stopped in his tracks as Lirsar's simmering glare hit him. "Oh," the salarian said darkly. Both quarians turned confusedly to see what he was looking at, and they watched as the musclebound Vega approached. "She must be with _them_."

"With _who_?" Raan asked, her eyes shifting from the human to the salarian as though she were watching a tennis match.

Lirsar gestured in the direction of the lobby, and the admirals noticed the haphazard assortment of aliens sleeping therein. "The bums slouching around the hospital like they own the place. Where _I _come from, no medical facility worthy of the title would allow a possible hazard like that to exist."

Vega reached the desk and rested his own hands on it, which only intensified the general irritability radiating off of the receptionist. "Yeah, well, you ain't in Kansas anymore, Lirsar," he said with a roguish grin. "You might not like it, but we're not going anywhere for a while."

Lirsar gaped at him, completely oblivious to the reference. "_Kansas? _As in the former state on the American continent? What does that even – " He shook his head and rotated in his chair, fixing his gaze stubbornly on his computer. "Look, I don't have time for this. I'm getting back to work."

Vega chuckled and turned to Raan and Koris, slipping his hands back into his pockets. "'Ey. You might not remember me, but I remember you. James Vega. Served on the Normandy with Sparks."

Recognition dawned in Koris's glowing eyes, but Raan simply cocked her head to the side. "'Sparks?'"

"Oh, sorry," Vega laughed. "Just the nickname I've given her. Tali, I mean."

Raan gave a laugh of her own. "I see. Interesting nickname." She clasped her hands behind her back. "Good, I hope?"

Vega shrugged, his lopsided grin widening. "Not _bad_. Just the first thing I thought of when I met her. Jumpy. Energetic. Works with machines."

Koris moved in, extending his hand, which Vega took. "It's good to see another familiar face, mister Vega. I trust our young friend made it here alright, then?"

"Oh, yeah, she's right as rain," Vega said, and the two quarians exchanged mystified glances at the human expression. "I mean, she's good." He indicated the hospital stairwells over his shoulder. "Up with the commander right now. She's hardly left his side since she got here. Probably still sleeping, though," he added, recalling the early hour.

At the mention that Tali was with Shepard, Raan's posture relaxed, as though relieved of a great stress. Koris, too, reacted positively, perking up. "_Splendid_. So the newscasts were correct. We came here for good reason."

"How is she doing?" Raan asked somewhat excitedly, taking a step closer, clasping her hands to her chest. "Tali, I mean. She must have been so happy to see him – oh, I wish I could have been there – "

Vega laughed. "Yeah, I guess she was pretty happy. Shepard, too. Admiral Hackett was here a while ago. Told us that Shepard was in really bad shape. Seems like he's been doing pretty well ever since _she_ got here, though. Little injection of love does wonders."

"Oh, _Keelah_." Raan sighed happily, placing a palm over her heart. "That's beautiful. I'm so…" she paused, and turned to Koris. "I guess we didn't nearly get spaced for nothing, Zaal."

"Indeed," Koris agreed heartily. His eyes wandered over to the lobby. "I take it that's the rest of the commander's crew, in there?"

Vega turned to look in that direction. "_Si_. Well, a good chunk of it, anyway. The Alliance regulars who served on the Normandy are mostly still on active duty. And I'm pretty sure a few people just haven't managed to get here yet." He faced the quarians again. "You guys are more than welcome to join us. Not the cushiest setup, but some of the best company around."

Koris nodded. Raan let her hand rest briefly on Vega's arm. "Thank you, mister Vega. You've saved us some confusion, I'm sure." She gazed forlornly toward the stairwells. "I _do _wish I could see my Tali, but I'll let her sleep, of course."

Vega held up his hands. "Call me James. I'm not old yet. No offense." The admirals blinked at him. "Listen, I was about to head upstairs and see if the commander was awake. A few people have been able to meet with him, but we're taking it slow so we don't overload him or anything. Hoping to get my shot. If the going's good, I'll let Tali know you two are here."

"That would be lovely," Raan said. "Again, thank you so much, mi – James."

Koris adjusted the fabric of his gloves. "Yes, you've been most helpful." He regarded his fellow admiral. "Shall we join the others in the lobby, or would you prefer somewhere more comfortable?"

"Like _where_?" Raan asked skeptically.

"Ah. Well." Koris scanned their surroundings. "Certainly there are more comfortable accommodations _somewhere_ in the building – after all, we _are _in a hospital – "

"For the _last time_, I'm _fine_," Raan said, rubbing at her visor wearily, as though soothing aching temples. "We'll go to the lobby. Come on." Before Koris could object, she grabbed one of his hands and headed off, pulling him behind her and giving a parting nod to Vega.

He watched them for a moment, noting that, further away, Miranda Lawson was rising from her makeshift bed, rubbing groggily at her eyes; and then, absently straightening the cloth of his hoodie, he made his way to the stairwell.

* * *

Tali's sleeping arrangement, like Vega's, consisted of a chair, but that was where the similarities ended. As the young woman awoke that morning, she snuggled deeper into the simple velvety cushioning of her chair, wishing that the sun would go away and allow her to spend eternity dozing close to the man she loved.

She blinked several times to clear her vision, blurred as it was after sleeping, and watched Shepard, whose eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, breaths regular and light. Sitting there now, feeling well-rested and so devoid of conflict, it was hard to believe that only days ago she had been a wreck, physically and emotionally, unable or unwilling to sleep and with a gaping hole in her heart.

A small thrill ran through her as she realized she had not lapsed into her recurring nightmares the previous night. She had not been forced to watch, again and again, as she was forcefully separated from the most important person in her world, a helpless victim of fate, screaming mutely. In some ways, this very welcome change seemed the greatest indicator that her troubled mind could find peace, that her soul could begin to heal, more so even than being able to hold the warm and living hand of Shepard himself.

The young woman rose and walked over to the window, drawing the sheer curtains aside. The lighting of the room was hardly affected, as it was a dull day, the sky blanketed by dark clouds. Several Alliance freighters were climbing up toward those clouds, followed closely by a turian dreadnought. Tali watched the ships until they were no longer visible, idly speculating on their purpose and destination. The turians had allocated an appreciable amount of manpower and resources to Earth's reconstruction efforts; perhaps now, those Alliance craft were bringing some of London's best to Palaven, to return the favor. Such interspecies cooperation was always heartening to see, and in the wake of a war which had threatened to wipe out every living being, regardless of their culture or origin, Tali dearly hoped that the divides of the past would not return.

Her auditory emulators picked up sounds from behind her, and she turned to see Shepard, squinting blearily at her, stirring under the thin sheets of his bed. A fond smile tugged at Tali's lips. She walked over to the machinery behind his bed, where she found a supply of plastic cups. She took one into her three-fingered hand and held it under a water dispenser, filling it.

"Whatimeizzit?" Shepard grumbled.

Tali sat down on the edge of his mattress and offered him the cup of water, which he took with a grateful nod, propping himself up. "A little after six o'clock. Still early."

Shepard grunted around the cup, from which he was thirstily drinking, and then he lowered it to his lap. "_Too_ early. Guess I've done enough sleeping for one lifetime, though."

"Don't be ridiculous." Tali took the cup from him as soon as it was empty, and walked back over to the dispenser, refilling it. She held the cup out to him again, and he accepted it, raising an eyebrow. "Remember what we talked about last night. You have to take care of yourself. Your body is still recovering – the more sleep you get, the better – "

"Tali, Tali," Shepard interrupted, laughing and holding his free hand up. "Don't worry. I haven't forgotten. I don't make a promise unless I intend to keep it." He indicated the cup. "What are you trying to do, drown me?"

Tali planted her hands on her hips. "Sleep's important. So is staying hydrated. Drink it. Or do you need me to feed it to you?"

Shepard chuckled. "That shouldn't be necessa – "

He never got to finish the reply, as Tali lunged forward, wrapping an arm (gently, he noticed) around the back of his neck, wresting the cup from his grasp before he could register what was going on. Shepard laughed harder still, turning his head aside to avoid her as she brought the cup up to his lips.

"Don't make this harder on yourself," Tali said, giggling. "I'll bring out Chiktikka if I have to."

"Good lord, you're a _tyrant_." Shepard smiled up at her.

Before the struggle could reach any resolution, the door to the room opened. Shepard and Tali looked about in surprise, frozen in their curious positions, to see James Vega standing on the threshold, his face slowly breaking into a disbelieving grin.

"Whoa. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

The injured commander and his quarian lover stared at him for a moment, and then at each other. Ultimately they could only burst into laughter, recognizing the unlikelihood of someone walking in at that exact moment. On a deeper level, their spirits had been lifted considerably by the lighthearted quarrel, one which harkened back to earlier days, before the resolution of the Reaper war had driven a wedge between them.

Shaking her head, Tali rose from Shepard's bed, setting the cup of water down on the bedside table. "No, James, you're not interrupting anything. I _was _trying to make the commander drink his daily dose of water." She shot a mock glare in her boyfriend's direction.

Shepard looked to Vega. "That's _her _story, but I'm pretty sure she was trying to drown me."

Vega raised his hands, palms outward. "'Ey, don't try to drag _me _into this. I'm just an innocent bystander."

Tali laughed. "Don't worry. I think you diffused the situation." She sat back down on Shepard's mattress. "We'll see if he's so lucky next time."

Shepard adopted a horrified expression and mouthed the worlds _help me _to Vega. The bulky N7 operative chortled and walked further into the room, stopping next to Tali's chair. He turned to the quarian. "Well, if you're ready to call a truce with him for now, you got a couple visitors downstairs. Your admiral friends. Raan and Koris."

Tali stiffened, her already glowing eyes brightening. "Really? They're here, in the hospital?"

Vega nodded. "I told 'em you were probably still sleeping, being so early and all. They said they were gonna wait in the lobby until you were ready for them."

Tali got to her feet. "Were they okay? How was auntie Raan?" Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she began to wring her hands. "So much has happened over the last day…I almost forgot what happened to her."

"Yesterday you told me they came along, but you didn't mention anything _happened _to Raan," Shepard said, sounding concerned. "Did she get hurt?"

"No. Well – kind of." Tali shifted distractedly. "We were in the shuttle's engine room, trying to keep the core from overheating. It was so _hot_. After a while, Raan collapsed. Our suits' environmental controls aren't built to fight off that kind of heat.

"When we got on the_ Kalros_, Bont said she'd be fine. She was just exhausted. We left her in the infirmary, and Koris stayed behind to keep an eye on her."

"I'm glad to hear she didn't get hurt too badly." Shepard's serious expression relaxed. "I should've known there was more to the story. Why didn't you just tell me?"

Tali reached down and clasped one of his hands. "You have enough to worry about. Like I said, we all got out okay, so it wasn't a big deal. And anyway, I was a little busy lecturing my crazy boyfriend."

Vega scratched at what appeared to be a fledgling beard. "Raan seemed fine, Tali. Koris kept trying to help her out, coddle her and stuff. She just waved him off. Last I saw, she was dragging him into the lobby. Got 'em to join our little party down there."

Shepard turned to him, grinning. "The hospital staff must _hate _you guys."

"Funny you mention that." Vega laughed. "Raan and Koris went to the reception desk first. Soon as they told the salarian clerk that the person they were looking for was here to visit _you _– " He pointed at the commander. " – he got all _kinds _of pissy. Called us 'bums.' I just told him to deal with it."

Shepard chuckled, but there was concern in his eyes. "Y'know, I told Garrus the other day – you guys _really _don't have to sit around here for me. I appreciate the thought, but – "

"Hold up," Vega cut him off. "Lemme guess. Garrus told you nobody was goin' anywhere."

Shepard blinked, and then smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

"Problem solved." Vega glanced at Tali and indicated the bedside chair. "You mind?"

Tali looked uncomprehendingly from the chair to him, and then, understanding, shook her head. "No, of course not. Go ahead." As he sat down, she leaned in close to Shepard and embraced him. "I'll go downstairs and see how auntie Raan is doing." She straightened and appraised Vega. "Don't put him through any of your crazy exercise routines, okay?"

Vega shrugged, smiling crookedly. "No promises."

Tali gave him a pointed, playful glare, and then, with a final rub of Shepard's shoulder, she walked out of the room, leaving the two soldiers alone.

* * *

"So what the hell are you doing here, James?" Shepard asked, extending a balled-up fist, which the lieutenant smilingly punched with his own. "I appreciate it, but I would have thought you'd be keeping busy with the Alliance."

"Oh, I am." Vega draped his arms over the back of his chair. He sniffed, and then looked down at the seat. "Smells like Sparks. She actually sleeping in this chair?"

Shepard cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah. You can _smell _her?"

Vega chuckled. "Man, that _does _sound weird, doesn't it? Don't judge." He wiggled around a bit, getting a better feel of the chair. "Guess it's not such a stretch. _Damn_, this chair is _comfy_. The ones in the lobby are like torture devices."

Shepard held up his hands and moved them to the side in time with his words. "James Vega: chair connoisseur."

"I can think of worse things to be." Vega laughed. "Anyway, yeah, I _am _keepin' busy, no doubt. War might be over, but humanity needs the Alliance now more than ever. Hell, I guess pretty much everyone needs the Alliance at least a little bit, right now."

"I guess we all need each other," Shepard reasoned, drawing a nod from his former subordinate. "I heard, when we were still in the thick of things, that Khar'shan really got hit hard. Any word on their situation?"

"It's bad," Vega told him, his expression turning grim. "No easy way to say it. Seeing the damage to Palaven was hard. Seeing the damage to Thessia pissed me off and broke my heart, for real. Seeing the damage to Earth? Well, you know how I felt about that." He ran a hand over his face, and when it slid down, revealing his eyes, they were dark, haunted. "But Khar'shan…Shepard, the planet is like…it's like a _corpse_. And all the death…"

"You saw?" Shepard asked.

Vega nodded. "Yeah. I saw. That's where I was assigned when I linked back up with the Alliance." His eyes fell on Shepard, appearing to beseech him. "It's – it sounds horrible to say, but I've never been so glad to get out of a place before, y'know?" He shuddered as though a cold breeze had passed through him. "So much pain…all the broken families, all that civilization just – fuckin' _torn down_ and _smashed _– "

"That's enough," Shepard interrupted him quietly, seeing how badly the recollections were affecting him. "I get it. I'm sorry."

Vega blinked, and the light returned to his eyes, but his expression did not lighten. He readjusted his position. "Don't need to be sorry for me. I'm just sorry for the batarians." He shrugged. "I never really liked the batarians before, but shit, man. _No one _deserves what the Reapers did to them."

"You're right." Shepard reached for the cup of water on his bedside table and took a sip. "So if things are so busy, how'd you manage to get here?"

"Wasn't hard. When the newsfeed announced you were here, I just went to my XO and told him I wanted to go see you. Considering what you did for everyone, he didn't have any good reason to object. In fact…" Vega fished around in his sweatshirt's pocket and, when his hand withdrew, it held an old-fashioned paper card.

Grinning, he offered it to Shepard. The commander took it, opening it so that he could see the contents within. Dozens of signatures were scrawled all over, as well as various messages simply urging him to get well soon or thanking him, usually without any specification as to what for.

Conflicting emotions arose within Shepard. Part of him felt overwhelmed with gratitude, felt glad that all of his efforts and all of his fighting over the last few years had impacted people in a positive way, positively enough that they had seen fit to show him their support despite never meeting him; but another, colder part of him whispered that a mass-murderer such as he did not deserve their sentiments, and that he should instead be receiving their derision and condemnation. Somewhere in between lay a more basic discomfort. He had never got accustomed to such treatment, and believed that any response he could give would only prove inadequate.

"That's nice," he said, managing a smile, and he propped the card up on his table. In the back of his mind he knew that he would regret it, as he would be unable to ignore it, and looking at it would only stir up that internal clashing again. "Thanks, James." He nodded at the card. "I'll have to find a way to thank them, too."

"Shit, Loco, you already pretty much saved the galaxy." Vega shook his head, still grinning. "They're thanking _you_ now. I think that's how it's supposed to work."

"Ah," was all Shepard could say, as he could neither agree nor disagree with the lieutenant's assessment. What kind of galactic savior would choose to kill an entire race for the sake of the others? Those were not the decisions of a hero. He toyed uncomfortably with his sheets for a moment, and then looked at Vega, anxious to change the subject. "How's your family? You told me a little about them, way back. They get out okay?"

Vega fixed his eyes on the bedside table, and they grew somewhat distant. He stroked idly at his facial hair. "I dunno. I mean – I _know_, but I dunno how I'm supposed to _feel _about it. Y'know?" He exhaled through his nostrils. "My dad died. Think I told you that I didn't really consider him 'family' anymore, but…man, I didn't expect it, but it still hurt." He looked contemplatively at Shepard. "I guess maybe it's because I couldn't do anything _about _it. He was so out of my life. I never even got to decide if I'd be the 'bigger man' and try to help him." He chuckled sadly. "I don't even know _how _he died. Hate that shit. Kind of thing that keeps me up at night, and I have enough trouble sleeping as it is."

"I'm sorry, James," Shepard said softly, feeling a pang of real sympathy. It had struck him, during their shared time on the Normandy, that Vega was too good a man to have endured all the various hardships of his life. He was vulgar, at times, and was by no means perfect – at times, he could even be downright obnoxious – but he was, at his core, a good person. He had hoped that the end of the war might see such hardships erased, not just for Vega but for all of his friends and crew. That, apparently, was not proving to be the case.

Vega shrugged, and sighed again, heavily. "No point crying over it now." His brow furrowed. "_Couldn't _cry, actually. When I heard he was dead, I mean. It was like – it was like I felt like I _should_, even though he was an asshole, but I just _couldn't_. That bothered me. Dunno why." He crossed his arms and looked at Shepard's get-well card. "A few cousins I didn't really know died. My favorite aunt was staying in Europe. Dunno if you've heard, but the Reapers really fucked most of Europe up. She didn't get out. Other than _that – _" his lips turned up into a lopsided grin. " – everyone's okay." He paused, and then laughed. "Man, I feel like this whole conversation has been _really _depressing. Sorry, Loco. Didn't mean to unload my problems on you like that."

"Don't apologize," Shepard said fiercely but without anger, a fire coming into his eye. "I asked because I wanted to know, James. You're my friend, and a _damn _good soldier. A good man, too, as far as I'm concerned. I _don't _just want to hear about the good stuff. I want to hear about the bad stuff, too. There's strength in sharing those things."

Vega nodded slowly. "Yeah. You're right. Thanks, Shepard. I appreciate that." He slipped his hands into his hoodie's pockets. "Don't get me wrong, though. I count my blessings. Like I said, whole lot of batarian families were just wiped out. Lot of families everywhere else got off a lot worse than mine. I'm amazed so many people survived, actually."

"True. Got to take comfort in what we have." Shepard smiled. "So, what's up next for the hospital's resident chair connoisseur?"

"I'm never gonna live that down, now, am I?" Vega laughed. "Well, to be honest, Loco, I'm gonna be heading out after this. I'm, no joke, _stoked _that you're alive. Even _more _stoked that it looks like you're gonna be okay. Like I said to Kaidan at breakfast yesterday, one big happily-ever-after. And more importantly, I got to see you for myself." His crooked grin widened. "Make sure you're not like, a Reaper in disguise, or anything."

Shepard chuckled, and the lieutenant pressed on. "But I can't sit still. Not raggin' on anyone who's staying – hell, a big part of me really wants to – but there's just too much goin' _on,_ y'know? I wasn't lying when I said I was glad to get off Khar'shan, but that just reminds me how bad they need able bodies like me." His eyes searched Shepard's face cautiously, as though looking for signs of displeasure or disappointment. "That make any sense? I don't wanna seem like I'm jumping ship, or anything – "

"James." Shepard shook his head, smiling. "Don't worry. I understand. I feel the same way." He gazed briefly out the window, where the dark clouds were gathering even more compactly, giving the distinct impression that inclement weather was imminent. "I wish I could be out there, helping to fix all the damage. And I know everyone else understands the urge to help, even if they _are _sticking around." He faced Vega again. "I'm grateful you stopped by. And I'm even more grateful I got to call you a member of my squad."

Vega rubbed at the back of his neck, almost ruefully, and stood. "Yeah. Me too. You're a hell of a guy, commander Shepard. Even managed to teach _me _a few things." He laughed, and then extended a hand. "Rest up, Loco. I wanna see you jogging out those hospital doors carrying Tali in your arms."

Shepard laughed, too, and shook his hand firmly. "I'll see what I can do, lieutenant."

Vega straightened, withdrew his hand, and used it to snap off a smart salute. "Permission to get out of your hair, commander?"

Shepard returned the salute. "Stay safe out there."

The N7 operative kept his arm up for another lingering moment, his eyes fixed on Shepard. And then he lowered it, slowly, and nodded. "Aye, sir."

* * *

"I still can't believe it," Koris said in a hushed voice to Raan. "A real, living _prothean_. It's almost like going back in time and seeing Rannoch before the Morning War. Traveling through time."

Raan nodded at him to show her agreement – it really _was _remarkable – but dared not say anything. They were sitting in the hospital lobby, having already exchanged greetings and pleasantries with everyone else, and although most of them had since moved off to explore the building or give the cafeteria a second chance, Javik and Liara remained, standing across the way, leaning against a column and talking in hushed voices. The quarian admiral feared that, in keeping with the prothean's hunter-oriented physical features – a lithe form, sharp teeth and four eyes – he might also have extraordinary hearing. She did not want to impress him as prone to gossip, if that were the case.

She watched the asari and prothean duo, rubbing her hands together idly. She had met, before, with both of them on Rannoch, however briefly. While Javik remained largely a mystery to her, he still seemed markedly unsociable and disdainful; but Liara was much easier to know, and despite some obvious cynicism, she was for the most part pleasant and kind. That they were speaking now with such apparent intimacy, close together and with plenty of soft laughs between them, struck her as nothing short of amazing and more than a little curious. That their eyes were full of less-than-subtle affection, and that the asari frequently reached out for quick touches of the prothean's arms or hands, was positively mind-blowing to her. If they were a couple, she mused, it was about the most bizarre couple she had ever seen in her fair lifespan.

She became aware that Koris was staring at her. Her head whipped in his direction. "What?"

He started, and blinked rapidly. "You appeared to be spacing out. I was merely concerned that you were experiencing a relapse."

Raan managed to resist a rather strong urge to resort to physical violence. She was very fond of Koris, and was grateful for his show of support to Tali by way of coming with them to Earth, but the man could be _truly _maddening, even without his political pontifications. "Ancestors help me, Zaal, if I have to tell you _one more time _that I'm _fine_, I'll – "

"Auntie Raan!"

Her annoyance evaporated in a heartbeat at the sound of Tali's voice. Both she and Koris turned in their seats to see Tali making her way over to them across the lobby, walking rapidly. The young quarian broke into a jog, and Raan stood to receive an impassioned, squeezing hug.

"Oh, child," Raan breathed happily, running her hand along Tali's back. "I'm so glad to see you." She pushed her back to arm's length. "Let me take a look at you. You must feel like a new woman."

Tali giggled, taking one of Raan's hands into both of hers. "Maybe. A less angsty woman, anyway. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Raan said lightly, shooting a meaningful glance in Koris's direction as he, too, stood. "I just needed a good long rest, and I got it. To be honest, I haven't slept in a bed as comfortable as the one on the _Kalros _for a long time." She leaned her head in, peering into Tali's purple visor. "But that's not important. How is he?"

Tali looked at her and Koris in turn, and then walked over to one of the groupings of chairs in the lobby, indicating that they should follow her. They obliged, and the three of them sat down, huddled close together.

"Right. Shepard. He's – " Tali began, and then paused, turning to Koris. "How are _you _doing, Koris?"

"I'll be better once you answer the question," Koris answered wryly.

The young admiral blinked at him, and then giggled again. "Okay." She shifted in her chair and sighed. It was, Raan could tell, a happy, content sound. "Shepard's going to recover. At least, it's looking that way right now. And – well, unless something changes, I think it's going to stay that way." She beamed at them. "Remember Bont? He's in charge of Shepard's care now. I don't know what it is, but that made me feel a _lot _better. He really knows what he's doing."

Raan clasped her hands over her heart. "Tali, that's _wonderful_. And I'm glad to hear Bont is taking care of him." She smiled, and laid a hand on Tali's knee. "But, if the way you feel about _him _is any indication, I think _you _are the most important ingredient here."

Tali blushed and her fingers, as ever, began to fidget. "Well, I mean, it _was _great to see each other again. And I _was _happy to see him – " she paused, and her voice softened. Her hands stilled. "Really. I…" her glowing eyes met Raan's. "I didn't have nightmares last night, auntie. That's the first time since I lost him."

Raan squeezed her hand. "I'm sure it's the same way for him, Tali."

"How did _Bont _manage to take control of his medical care?" Koris asked curiously, looking around surreptitiously as though to ensure the krogan wasn't nearby to take offense. "Well, then again – I suppose that's not so far-fetched."

Tali nodded at him. "I almost felt bad for the doctor he took over from. Bont walked all over him. Not physically, of course," she added hastily, and then she laughed. "He _did _give him a good dressing-down, though."

"I imagine," Raan said amusedly, imagining the krogan doctor looming over and barking at a trembling human. "So what _happened, _Tali? Where was he, all that time? What happened to him?"

The glowing eyes behind Tali's visor seemed to sadden, and she turned her head, looking out one of the lobby's windows. "Actually…" she whispered. "I don't really _know_. We've been so caught up just…being _with _each other again. I haven't asked what happened after we got separated, here in London. But…"

She turned back to her fellow quarians, her voice soft and expressing every ounce of her care and love for the man she was speaking of. "He _did _tell me about what happened after he regained consciousness."

Tali fell silent for a moment. Raan moved closer. "_Well_?" she urged gently.

"He wanted to die," she said, her voice, which was already coming out quietly, dipping in volume so that Raan and Koris had to strain to hear her. "He…the pain was so – he was in so much _pain _that he just wanted to _die. _He told me that, and – _I _wanted to die, too. But then – he told me that he…thought of _me_." She said this almost curiously, as though she was only just realizing the implications of it, and was not quite able to believe it.

And just as Raan had felt every ounce of the girl's pain on Rannoch after her initial return, just as her heart had ached almost as though it was _her _heart that had been broken, she felt a powerful surge of warmth and gratitude sweep through her now. Blinking back tears, she pulled Tali into a hug. "I'm so happy for you," she said thickly, striving to contain her emotions before she burst out into full-blown crying. "Ohh, I needed to hear a happy ending more than I thought I did."

Tali laughed, and it sounded wet, as though she too were on the verge of tears. "Thank you. I _needed _a happy ending. I think…I think I could have moved on, if he had – you know. But – " She paused. "Koris, are you _crying_?"

Raan blinked and turned to see the man, head bowed. She detected what sounded distinctly like sniffling before he heard Tali's question and straightened. "Nonsense. I – " His voice broke, and he shook his head helplessly, speaking hoarsely. "Love is just so _beautiful_."

Tali and Raan exchanged looks, and then they burst into laughter - but this time, there was not a hint of mockery in it, and as Koris momentarily joined them, his shoulders shaking with every chuckle, the three of them embraced, feeling unashamed and open in the company of people who cared about them, enjoying the first outright happy ending any of them had known for what seemed a very long time.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Sorry for the week-long delay on this chapter. Things should hopefully even out again now. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

As another evening descended on the city of London, Miranda Lawson found herself worrying about her sister, Oriana. This was, for her, by no means an unusual state of mind; for much of the last year and a half, ever since revealing her identity to the younger woman and forming a relationship, she had maintained a constant, watchful eye, and even _before _Oriana knew she existed, she had played a subtle, invisible hand in her welfare, ensuring that their ruthlessly ambitious father could not interfere with her life.

The difference, now, standing in Nathan Levitt Medical Center's courtyard and watching leaves sway in a lazy breeze, was that she did not know what, exactly, she was worried about. Their father was dead. He no longer loomed, ever-present, an imminent threat which threatened to strike if she lowered her guard for even a moment. The Reapers were gone, leaving no immediate existential crises, at least as far as Miranda was aware. On top of the removal of those threats which had for so long served as the former Cerberus operative's antagonists, threats against which she had poured all of her substantial cunning and natural intellect, Oriana was in the care and company of people who loved her – for, unlike her older sister, _she_ had a family. Not one bound by blood, ultimately, but this did not nullify their obvious closeness. They were as true a family as any other.

Miranda sighed, and drew her blouse more tightly to her skin as a particularly cool breeze passed over her. Hers, she knew, was simply the concern of an older sibling for the younger, a perfectly normal protectiveness, despite the decidedly _abnormal _lengths to which that protectiveness had been forced to extend. She had only been separated from Oriana for around a week, having left the girl and her family, with whom she was temporarily living, to offer her help to commander Shepard, and she suspected that her worry would likely not grow any less persistent as her stay at the hospital drew on.

She smiled as a bird landed nearby and hopped about, its head twitching from side to side, fixing one eye on her and then the other before promptly flying off. She followed its progress until it passed out of view, turning her face up to the sky. Cloudy as it had been throughout that day, she was not surprised when a drop of rain splashed against her cheek. Several more followed suit, the vanguards of what promised to be, according to that morning's newsfeed, a miserably wet week.

Miranda turned and made her way into the cafeteria, from whence she had accessed the courtyard. The warm lighting of the large room, with its high ceiling and rows of long tables, was at odds with the rest of the building, which was, for the most part, dim. Dozens of employees were eating their dinners, a diverse multispecies gathering, with a small group of turians conversing excitedly at one table (one of them appeared to be pantomiming a fistfight), a salarian arguing with a volus – the only volus, notably, which Miranda had seen since arriving on Earth – while gesticulating agitatedly at his omni-tool, and, of course, humans of varying age and race. Miranda was surprised to see that not a one of them appeared to be dissatisfied with the cafeteria's food, which her entire group of friends, excepting the krogan, had roundly panned.

After traveling through several corridors, she arrived at the lobby to find that very group of friends assembled near the hospital entrance. Curious, she joined them, noticing that James Vega was standing by the doors, bag strapped over his shoulder, shaking Garrus's hand.

"Sorry to see you go, James," Garrus was saying, shaking his hand. "Won't be the same around here, without you doing suicidal exercise routines in the courtyard."

"I'm sure you'll make do," Vega replied wryly. "Keep in touch, no? Wanna be involved when you're in the running for Primarch."

Garrus scoffed. "If _that _day ever comes, I'll ask you to get 'involved' by putting a bullet in my head."

Vega laughed, and the turian stepped back. Miranda frowned. She had not known Vega for very long, but he had, at least, not managed to irritate her yet. She wondered what had prompted the abrupt departure. "You're leaving? Is something wrong?"

"Nah, no worries," Vega assured her, looking in her direction and rubbing the back of his head. "It's just – my work here is done, you know? Well, not like I did any _work_, but you get the idea." He shrugged. "Saw the commander, got to talk to him. Know he's gonna recover. Time to get back into the thick of things."

Safe as her sister was, constant worry or not, it hadn't yet occurred to Miranda that her time spent in the hospital might be of more use elsewhere. Her eyes grew distant as she ruminated on this concept, but only briefly, as she knew innately that she was doing the right thing. Commander Shepard had put his life on the line more than once to lend a hand in her personal affairs, even when he had no obligation to do so. She was determined to return the favor, if only by being there for him.

She nodded at Vega. "Of course. Where will you be going?"

The N7 operative shifted his shoulder, adjusting his bag. "Back to Khar'shan," he said, the levity fading from his face, replaced by a blank mask which, no doubt, concealed some deeper emotion. "They need all the help they can get. Been there once already, so can't just pretend the problem doesn't exist." His expression relaxed. "Not all doom and gloom, though. Met some good people over there. Should be nice to hook up with 'em again."

Kaidan approached him and extended a hand, which Vega took. "Take care, James. Maybe I'll join you over there, when I can."

"I'd like that." Vega smiled at him. As his biotic friend moved back into the group, he looked around at each of them, as though committing their faces to memory. He inhaled deeply. "Well. Thanks for seeing me off, _amigos_." He held up a finger in mock warning. "I wasn't kidding when I said 'keep in touch.'"

Liara crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "James, I don't think you'd be able to get rid of us now even if you wanted to."

Vega chuckled, and when he spoke, his tone was humble and his voice hushed. "Yeah. Guess not." He held two fingers of one hand to his forehead in a casual salute. "_Adios_."

Before he could make his exit, however, the door burst open, and he stumbled back, blinking, as two Alliance soldiers trotted briskly into the lobby. They assumed positions on either side of the door, boots clicking noisily, weapons undrawn but hands resting on their holsters. Vega's idle surprise quickly vanished as a third figure followed the soldiers, dressed in full navy dress with matching cap. He snapped to attention, and Kaidan, also recognizing the newcomer, did the same.

Admiral Steven Hackett stood on the threshold for a moment, appraising the group with mild curiosity, and then he nodded wordlessly to both of his guards. They moved off, coming to a stop by the stairwell which led to the second floor. Hackett turned his attention to Vega and Kaidan, lifting his hand in a salute. "At ease, gentlemen."

Vega relaxed. "Admiral. Didn't expect to see you here again."

Hackett allowed a ghost of a smile to play about his lips. "Trying to anticipate me would be a losing game, lieutenant." His eyes fell to the N7 operative's bag. "Heading out?"

"Oh. Yeah." Vega gestured vaguely toward the outdoors. With the door open, a dark sky pouring rain was visible to all, and cold air mingled with the more temperate climes of the lobby. "Was just saying my goodbyes. Reporting back to my XO on Khar'shan."

Hackett nodded gravely, and then stepped aside to allow passage beyond him. "Understood. They're doing good work over there. Give commander Richards my regards."

Vega blinked, surprised that the admiral knew specifically which commanding officer he had been referring to. Hackett continued. "My transport is waiting out front. If you don't already have a ride, you're welcome to it. Just tell the driver that I've given you clearance."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that." Vega shot a crooked grin at his friends, all of whom were watching the scene unfold with a combination of confusion and interest. "Try this again, huh? Later."

The lieutenant made no effort to shield himself from the downpour as he stepped outside and strolled, unhurriedly, to the dark blue Alliance transport idling by the sidewalk. Hackett followed his progress until Vega was safely embarked and moving, and then closed the door. As it hissed shut, he turned about on his heel with practiced ease, clasping his hands behind him. "I had a feeling all of you would still be here." He glanced at the nearby receptionist, and then walked closer to the group. "Have you had any problems with the staff? I'm familiar with the supervisor of this facility. I asked him to give the commander's crew some leeway if they wanted to stick around, as a personal favor."

Liara smiled at him gratefully. "We suspected as much, Admiral. Thank you for being so considerate." She looked around at the others. "As far as I know, we haven't had any problems. Maybe some nasty looks from a few of the receptionists, but that's all."

As everyone else nodded in silent confirmation, Jacob Taylor, hands nestled casually in his pockets, shrugged. "Been a smooth ride. Food could be better, and it'd be nice if we had some queen-size mattresses to sleep on, but can't complain."

Hackett's expression remained unchanged. "I must have forgotten the mattresses. My mistake." He tilted his head toward the stairwell, apparently oblivious to the amused glances being exchanged at his rare display of humor. "I'm sure you can all guess why I'm here. I'm leaving the system tonight, so I wanted to check in on the commander again." He reached up with one gloved hand, smoothing his mustache with thumb and forefinger. "How is he?"

Urdnot Bont bustled his way to the front of the group, omni-tool activated, sharp eyes scanning it under his blue holographic visor. Hackett, to his credit, did not so much as blink at the sight of a krogan approaching so determinedly. "Commander Shepard is en route to full recovery within a standard month," Bont replied efficiently. "I've got him on one of my most intensive chemical regimens. He's confined to bed for at least another two weeks. Not that the moron's likely to pay any heed to that," he added darkly.

"Understood." Hackett nodded toward the omni-tool. "You're involved with his care? I wasn't aware you were part of the staff."

Wrex stepped forward, rubbing at his helmeted head. "Yeah, about that…"

"I'm not," Bont barked with characteristic bluntness. He gestured toward his chief. "I came here with Wrex ready to offer my aid to the doctors, but it turns out this facility's standard of care is an embarrassment." He shook his head irritably. "Found commander Shepard waltzing around his room like a varren claiming its territory. If I hadn't showed up when I did – "

Wrex slung an arm around the doctor's broad shoulders and grinned winsomely at Hackett. "What he's trying to say is, he offered to take over Shepard's care, and the staff was impressed enough with his record that they agreed." He glanced about conspiratorially, and moved in close to the human admiral. "He cured the Aru Plague, you know."

Hackett raised his eyebrows slightly. "I see." He stared at Bont for a moment, and then smiled. "Your reputation precedes you, doctor Bont. The commander couldn't be in better hands."

Bont opened his mouth to snap something, and then gaped, apparently taken aback by the fact that he might not, in fact, be dealing with a perceived moron. He quickly collected himself, ignoring Wrex and Grunt as they stifled laughs. "He'll be fine," he grumbled, turning off his omni-tool. "I'll see to it."

"I'm sure you will," Hackett said without a trace of irony. "Is he well enough to take visitors right now? I have some time, but I can't stick around for too long."

Bont stopped glaring at his fellow Urdnot krogan for long enough to reply. "Yeah, go ahead. Just don't wake him if he's asleep. Friendly faces are good for him, but he needs all the rest he can get. Simplest but most effective treatment there is."

Kaidan piped up, and Hackett turned to him. "We've been taking the visiting slow. Don't want to overstress Shepard. Been doing it one at a time." He glanced at the krogan. "Mostly."

Hackett nodded, his eyes roaming the group. "Good thinking. That young quarian woman, Tali'Zorah – I don't see her here. If she's visiting with him now, I'll wait."

Bont, clearly unaccustomed to receiving a taste of his own medicine, grunted in surprise as a brownish blur bowled past him, coming to a stop in front of Hackett with a three-fingered hand offered. "Admiral Hackett, it is my distinct _honor _to meet you at last. I have heard _so _much about you. I'm Admiral Zaal'Koris." The quarian took hold of the mildly bemused human's arm and made to steer him away, the glowing light of his mouthpiece never fading as he continued to ramble. "I was present during the battle for Earth – harrowing stuff, to be sure, lost a great many young souls, _too _young – and I was _most _impressed by your resolution and grit throughout – "

Shala'Raan, with the air of a hassled parent wearied by her child's perpetual misbehavior, intercepted the duo, removing Koris's grip on Hackett and pulling him back toward her. It appeared a friendly and casual enough gesture, but Koris looked in alarm at her hand as it squeezed his shoulder none-too-gently. "Hello, admiral Hackett. I am Shala'Raan, Zaal's colleague in the quarian admiralty. I hope he did not startle you. He can be a little – " she glared meaningfully at her captive. " – domineering."

Hackett straightened his sleeve. "Not at all. It's a pleasure to meet both of you." He glanced at Raan. "Although I believe we've spoken before, admiral Shala'Raan."

Raan nodded, and released Koris, who rubbed sulkily at his shoulder. "Yes. We briefly coordinated fleet movements before the strike at Earth." She indicated the stairwell. "You asked about Tali before. Yes, she's up with commander Shepard, but she's – well, she's _always _with him. You understand."

Hackett did not miss a beat, his shrewd eyes lighting up with comprehension, clearly not forgetting the particularly emotional pleas from the young quarian woman on the night of her arrival at the hospital, how she had wanted so badly to reach Shepard. "Yes. I do." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I'll take my chances and head upstairs, then. Thank you for clearing that up."

"It was my pleasure," Raan assured him, watching as he gave a nod to the others and began to move off. Koris observed mournfully, still nursing his shoulder.

"I would have liked the chance to speak with him," he mumbled. "I've never had a good conversation with a human admiral before. Least of all one held in such high esteem."

Raan couldn't help but smile at the genuine disappointment in his voice. As their fellow lobby residents dispersed around them, meandering in various directions and chatting quietly, she wrapped her arm about him, squeezing his shoulder again, gently this time. "You'll have your chance, Zaal. I'm sure admiral Hackett is just as anxious to pick the mind of the great Zaal'Koris. This simply wasn't the time for it."

"I suppose you're right," Koris conceded. The two of them strolled back toward their chairs, listening to the sound of rain as it pattered against windows. The older admiral's eyes lit up, and he glanced sidelong at his companion. "Do you really think he's heard of me?"

Raan laughed and patted his chest with her free hand. "It wouldn't surprise me, my friend."

* * *

Shepard reclined comfortably in his bed, propped up against the headboard, hands resting in his lap. He had already slept for many of the hours following Vega's visit, but could not shake the fatigue which weighed heavily on him. Tali was standing by the window, her hands on the windowsill, watching the downpour beyond, and he, in turn, watched her through lazily half-closed eyes. She was turned at such an angle that the swirling and bursting patterns hewn by the rain as it splashed against the glass was reflected in her purple visor, a display he found strangely mesmerizing; her glowing eye, too, was visible, detached and thoughtful, as her mind, a mind he found endearingly curious and open to new ideas, wandered in realms he was still learning to know.

He was no prothean. He could not reach out and feel her emotions on the air as though they were a palpable thing. But he knew her, loved her, and the conflict that mingled with her apparent content was evident to him, all the more so for that within him. Shepard knew that the rain itself was part of what preoccupied her – beautiful and soothing as it could be, it was an unwitting reminder that she was ever confined within her suit, unable to feel it on her own skin.

Shepard's fist clenched. The geth might have been able to accelerate the quarians' adaptation. Her generation might have been able to feel the rain on their flesh. It would have taken years, but it still had appeared possible, truly possible. He remembered the wonder, and the barely suppressed excitement, with which Tali had spoken of that new hope after the battle for Rannoch.

_But the geth can't help them anymore._

Shepard closed his eyes and inhaled, relegating such thoughts to the corner of his mind. He had spent more than enough time dwelling on his own inner turmoil. The confinement of her suit was, he felt, one thing currently stirring conflict within the woman he loved – but it was not the only thing.

"Vega must be on his way to the spaceport by now," he murmured aloud, allowing his eyes to open halfway.

Tali turned her head toward him, and the reflection of the window became a thin halo of light on the far side of her visor. She blinked at him, as though pulling herself back into the present, and then began walking over to her chair. "He was packing his things when I left auntie Raan in the lobby. I'm glad I caught him before he disappeared again. I told him to be careful, for what good that'll do." She sat down, crossing one leg over the other, resting her head on the back of the chair and letting it loll in the direction of the window. "Guess he already told you he was going to Khar'shan." She shuddered. "I can't say I envy him."

"Really?" Shepard asked mildly, reaching out and resting his hand on her knee. She lifted her head and looked at him. "Maybe not the Khar'shan part. It sounds like things are pretty horrible over there. But – well, he's getting back out there, helping out. Helping to rebuild all the damage to the galaxy." He glanced at the get-well card on his bedside table. "You don't envy that? Because I do. I mean – I'd understand, if you did."

Tali stared for a moment, and then lowered her crossed leg, leaning forward. She took Shepard's outstretched hand into both of hers, and nodded. "I know you would. And yet – you wouldn't." She shrugged. "Couldn't. Shepard, I'm a quarian. Ever since I was a little girl growing up in the Migrant Fleet, I was constantly taught that the greater good was much more important than I would ever be, individually. Our whole lives revolve around helping to better the condition of our people.

"I've seen some amazing, selfless acts from aliens. Including humans. I mean, _Keelah_, Shepard, you're about the most selfless person I've ever known." Her voice softened, and she ran her thumbs idly along the length of his hand. "You've risked your own life, more times than I can _count_, for others. And the turians – they're big on the greater good, too. Almost all of them enroll in the military for a while, or volunteer for the state. But it's…well, it's different for quarians. It's _everything_."

She ran her thumbs along the coarse skin of his hand. "So do I _envy_ him? Not exactly. A part of me does think it was irresponsible to leave Rannoch, but it's only a _part_ of me. In the end, nothing was going to stop me from coming here. From seeing you again." She titled her head to the side. "There is a _little _guilt, though. Was I that obvious about it?"

Shepard laughed, and his hand twisted to engulf one of her smaller ones, giving it a squeeze. "You're easy to read, Tali. Just one of the things I love about you." He pressed her hand to his lips. "I think it's just because I really _do _feel the same way. Or close to it, anyway. You're right – I'm no quarian. But you are my girlfriend, and that's got to give me _some _edge."

Tali gently extracted her hand and rested both of them on his mattress, giggling. "I didn't mean to sound like I was putting you down there. No, you're not a quarian, but – " she raised a hand to stroke his cheek. " – you understand me, as a person, better than any quarian ever has."

Shepard smiled. "How is Rannoch, anyway? The recolonization must be in full swing."

"It's moving." Tali sat back in her chair. "Not as smoothly as we'd hoped, though. There are a lot of people just sitting around in makeshift huts waiting for direction, but – well, it's been hard for the admirals to _give _that direction. They're used to military command, not to handling the civilian side of things, and yet they've been put in a position to make those decisions. Koris was trying to put together some kind of election for a temporary government, but I don't know how long that's going to take. Especially with our people spread all over the habitable continents." She exhaled heavily. "It's one big headache."

"You'll handle it, Tali," Shepard said in a low, assuring voice. "If there's one thing you've taught me about your people, it's that they're dedicated and resourceful. It may not be easy – in fact it definitely won't be – but you'll get there. You'll build – " He paused as a fresh pang of internal pain seared through him. " – you'll build a future. You've earned it." _And so did the geth, but they'll never have that chance._

Shepard cursed that interminable voice in his head, the one whose fangs gnawed at his conscience every second of the day, though he knew full well that he deserved its torment. What frustrated him the most was feeling it with Tali so near, feeling it while he was trying to help her deal with _her _problems – but how could he expect to help anyone when he was lost in his own conflict? How could he help anyone when _he_, evidently, needed to be helped? How could he lend his loved ones and his friends strength when he was having such trouble mustering it unto himself?

"Yes," Tali said quietly. "I think you're right. I think we'll build a future."

Shepard furrowed his brow. The words were straightforward enough, but there was something in the way she had said it, in the way her eyes seemed to lose their focus, in the way her hands began to fidget absently. He leaned forward, peering into her visor. "Tali?"

Tali moved closer, placing her hands once more on his mattress, still fidgeting. "Shepard, I've been meaning to ask – have you – I mean, there's no rush or anything, and I don't want to give you more to stress about than you already have, so if you don't want to think about it now, just tell me – "

"Hey." Shepard gave her a soothing smile and covered her hands with his, stopping their nervous movements. "You know you can say whatever you want to me." He arched an eyebrow. "I promise not to get _too _angry."

Tali laughed and relaxed visibly. "Thanks." Her eyes scanned his face searchingly. "What I'm trying to ask is – well…when we get out of here, have you thought about – "

A clicking sound, the telltale indicator that the room's door was being opened, interrupted her, and the couple turned to see who their visitor was.

* * *

Admiral Steven Hackett took his time strolling down the hospital's second floor corridor, taking in the bustling activity of its inhabitants. He had always felt most at home in busy places, places filled with those whose minds were fixated on a purpose and who strove efficiently to see that purpose fulfilled. He knew that was why he had climbed the ranks of the Alliance navy so quickly; where many young recruits buckled under the pressure of such environments, he remained a bastion of calm and rationale, not allowing a single detail to escape his notice, effortlessly communicating his determination and his serenity to those around him. He was, simply and without conceit, a natural leader.

Although Hackett was not a hospital employee, and did not hold any sway over the nurses and doctors milling all around him, they gave him a respectful berth nonetheless, and several even gave him deferential nods. Whether this was due to his impeccably clean and unwrinkled Navy dress uniform or the impression he gave them, he could not say, but it was not the first time he had seen such behavior. The knowledge that he could inspire respect or, indeed, fear, in so many people had never struck Hackett as particularly gratifying. He had never developed an ego or any self-importance as a result. It simply _was_, just as his body simply _was _and just as his thoughts simply _were_. The question had always been how he would utilize that knowledge to best serve himself and others. He was confident that he had made the right choices.

If anything, he mused as he returned one turian nurse's passing nod, he wished that people would treat him differently. This desire was not out of arrogant boredom or false modesty – he simply could not comprehend the idea that anyone saw him as more than an aging human male, unremarkable in physique and no less prone to aches and pains than any of his peers, a man whose life had just as many sorrows and defeats as it did triumphs.

Hackett greatly enjoyed reading up on the military history of all races, but humanity's in particular, and a faint smile tugged at his lips as he thought back to the various military officers who had preceded him throughout the centuries, both in the Alliance navy and in those of the archaic nation-states of pre-Alliance Earth. _I imagine General Patton would get a good laugh at the pedestal history has placed him on, too._

He glanced at the doors lining the corridor as he passed them, noting their number. Several of the doors were partly open, and he glimpsed Alliance soldiers reclined on their beds or sitting upright, in varying states of health. One of them was prone on his mattress, shirtless, with a wide, white bandage swathed around his torso, stained deeply with blood. Hackett felt the sympathy that always ensued after such a sight, but was grateful – selfishly, he knew – that it was not under his command that the soldier had been wounded.

_But plenty of men _have _been wounded under my command. I sacrificed entire fleets during the Reaper war. Knowing that those decisions are necessary has never made it any easier._

Hackett made no effort to suppress those thoughts. If he had ever tried, he would have spent most of his waking hours in the attempt, as they had been with him for as long as he could remember – and in any case, he felt that doing so would be an insult to those whose death had occurred on his order.

The admiral paused in front of room 34B, indulging in an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation. The last time he had seen commander Shepard, only a few days prior, the man had been in horrible condition, trapped in delirium, screaming at everything and nothing. Hackett recalled the chill that had gone down his spine when Shepard had desperately called out to admiral David Anderson, with a pain and despair in his voice that left him wondering what fate, exactly, his old friend had ultimately met.

Hackett reached out and gripped the door handle, letting his fleeting doubts dissipate as they always did. He had learned long ago that there was no point in overthinking things, particularly when there was a job to be done.

He was met with the sight of Shepard and Tali, the former propped up in his bed and the latter sitting in a chair close by, leaning toward him. They were both turned in his direction, and Hackett realized rather sheepishly that he may very well have been interrupting them, after all.

He stepped farther into the room, letting the door swing lazily shut behind him, and clasped his hands behind his back. "Commander." His eyes pierced Tali's visor for a moment in a lingering acknowledgment of her presence, and then turned to Shepard. "It does this old man good to see your condition taking a turn for the better."

Shepard seemed to snap out of a fugue, and snapped a smart salute, drawing himself up a bit more. "Admiral Hacket – sir."

Hackett returned the salute easily. "As you were. No need for military formality here, Shepard. I'm here as a friend, not your commanding officer."

Shepard glanced over his shoulder, apparently noticing the Alliance guard whose shoulder plate was partly visible through the corridor viewport that looked into his room, but gave no hint of any skepticism. His hand fell back into his lap, and he smiled. "Sir. It's good to see you."

Tali scooted her chair back slightly and stood, facing Hackett. "Hello, admiral. You might not remember me. I'm Tali'Zorah, and I – "

Hackett suppressed a grin. "I remember you, admiral Zorah. You're not as forgettable as you seem to think." He indicated Shepard. "You've been looking after the commander?"

Tali stiffened as though she were being formally questioned by a board of investigators. "Yes! I mean – Urdnot Bont is his doctor, he's a krogan, living downstairs, maybe you've met him – but I – yes." She deflated, perhaps realizing how silly her nervousness was, and he could hear the amusement in her voice as she continued, her face turning in Shepard's direction. "I'm keeping an eye on him."

Hackett nodded, allowing his grin to form. "As it should be. I suspected I was making the right choice in letting you up here the other night." He turned partly to the door. "I hope I'm not intruding. I can come back in a bit."

Tali shook her head and took a step away from the chair, gesturing toward it. "No, please. Come and have a seat. I'll get out of the way, so you two can talk."

Shepard frowned slightly, watching her with obvious concern. "You don't have to leave." He glanced at Hackett. "Does she?"

Hackett winced imperceptibly. He was largely an unshakeable man, but dictating terms in this situation felt awkward even to him, particularly after establishing that he was visiting on an informal capacity. "Actually, commander, I do have some private information to discuss with you. However, like I said, I can come back shortly. I have a little time to spare."

Tali shook her head again and took a few steps toward him and the door. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. I should probably – check on auntie Raan again, anyway." She looked back at Shepard. "Remember to take those pills on your table in fifteen minutes."

Shepard blinked and looked at his bedside table. "Oh. Yeah. Forgot about those."

Tali rolled her glowing eyes good-naturedly. "I know you did." She gave him a little wave, which he returned, but Hackett did not miss the thinly veiled concern still in his eyes. He wondered what, exactly, the two of them had been talking about before he interrupted.

Any further thought on the matter was likewise interrupted as the young quarian paused next to him before reaching the door. She spoke to him in a low voice. "Admiral, I…just want to thank you for the other day. I know I didn't handle the situation very well, but you let me up here anyway, and I…well. Thank you."

Hackett merely nodded. Glancing back again at Shepard, briefly, Tali opened the door and left.

After waiting a moment, Hackett walked over to the bedside chair. He unthinkingly smoothed the front of his uniform and sat down, resting one leg atop the other and letting his hands rest on the chair's arms. He appraised Shepard contemplatively. "This isn't the first time I've been here to visit you, Shepard."

Shepard shifted in his bed, his eyes narrowing as he considered the statement. They widened after a short time as he seemed to understand. "Before I regained consciousness."

Hackett dipped his head in confirmation. "I was one of the first people to see you after you were picked up by the paramedic team. Word reached the Alliance quickly that you'd been picked up, and I got here as soon as I could."

Shepard looked down at his bedsheets. "I…don't really remember much. I remember _before _I got picked up. In bits and pieces. I remember parts of walking through the streets. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I needed to get help." He shrugged. "But after that, it's all a haze, until I woke up a few days ago."

Hackett's blue eyes stared at him piercingly. "You were in rough shape, commander. No – that's an understatement. You were as good as dead. I couldn't believe that you had managed to stand up, let alone walk anywhere." He smoothed his mustache. "Then again, I guess that shouldn't surprise me, considering your record."

Shepard flashed a smile, but it was hollow and strained, a kind of smile that Hackett recognized well. It was one of a man who did not feel he deserved the praise he was receiving, but accepted it politely nonetheless. It was the kind of smile that he, too, had found himself giving on many occasions. "Yeah." The commander looked at him. "How bad _was _I, admiral? I – haven't really thought to ask, before now."

Hackett considered the question for long moment. "I've seen a lot of wounded soldiers. When you make war your life as I have, casualties are just another factor to get used to." He shook his head. "But I've never seen anything quite like it. I've sent you on missions so dangerous that most men would have refused, and you've come out the other side none the worse for wear, but I honestly didn't know if you would pull through."

Shepard nodded slowly and exhaled. He mustered another smile, and this time it did not seem quite so empty. "Thanks. For telling me. It's good to know what I had to get through to be here. Fills in the blank spot."

Hackett returned the smile. "How are you holding up now?"

"Good. Or better, at least. There are moments where I feel like I could stand up and walk." Shepard paused, and chuckled. "In fact, I _did _stand up and walk yesterday. Didn't go too smoothly. My body's still weak. Still hurts to move."

"I spoke to Urdnot Bont on my way up here." Hackett gestured vaguely toward the door. "He mentioned you're on course for a full recovery within a month."

Shepard blinked, and his smile widened. "That's news to me. Good to hear." He laughed. "Bont stops in a few times a day to tweak my chemical treatments and glare at me, but he hasn't been very talkative."

Hackett's lip twitched upward, which was about as close to a laugh as he was prone to get. "Talkative or not, you've got one of the galaxy's most respected doctors taking care of you. I had no idea Urdnot Bont even still practiced medicine, let alone that he was part of the group visiting you here. You're a very lucky man, Shepard."

Shepard's smile faded slightly. "Yeah. I am." He focused his eyes on Hackett. "I appreciate you coming by, admiral. I admit, I'm surprised. But…pleasantly surprised. How have _you _been? What happened after the Crucible fired?"

Hackett did not answer right away, idly stroking his facial hair with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, not oblivious to the almost desperate gleam in the commander's eye at the last part of his question. "The short story is that the Reapers died. They were decimating our fleet, and it was only a matter of time until we were completely beaten, but suddenly they just stopped. It was like someone hit an 'off' switch, and just like that, it was over.

"The long story is a lot more complicated, and I won't trouble you with the details. But it turned out that firing the Crucible apparently damages the mass relays. There was no clue to that in the blueprints, at least as far as I know. The Sol relay and several others are already fixed, but it'll be months until they're _all_ up and running again."

Hackett paused. "Even more unexpected than the damage to the relays was the damage to other synthetic life. The geth fleet went just as dead as the Reapers did. We feared that all synthetic life had been destroyed, but as far as we can tell now, it was only synthetic life with Reaper code. It seems that repurposing that code for their own use was a fatal mistake for the geth."

Shepard ran a hand slowly across his forehead, eyes fixed on empty air. "So – all of them? All of the geth are dead?"

The question was voiced with a casualness that struck Hackett as very much forced. He crossed his arms, mind racing. The pieces of a puzzle were presented, but he could not fathom what outcome might result if those pieces were assembled. "Yes. As far as we know, the geth are completely wiped out. Commander, if you're blaming yourself for their fate, you should stop. There was no way we could have known that the Crucible would destroy them. There was too much we didn't know about the weapon. We were desperate. The possibility always existed that there would be unforeseen side effects."

Shepard opened his mouth slightly as though to reply, but said nothing. He swallowed, hard, closing his eyes for a moment, and then nodded.

When it seemed obvious that no words were forthcoming, Hackett let his hands fall back to the chair and pressed on. He did not know what troubled thoughts might be going through Shepard's mind, or why, but in the hopes of relieving him of them, he opted for a classic military tactic: diversion. "As for me, I'm well. The Alliance is busy picking up the pieces, and that means I'm busy doing the same thing. After being at war for so long, though, this is the kind of busy that I could get used to. Building is much nicer than destroying."

The diversionary tactic, such as it was, seemed to have worked, and Shepard smiled at him. He sighed and adjusted his position, looking wistfully out the window on the far side of the room. "You're right about that. I wish I could be out there helping. Can't wait to get out of here and do just that."

"You may be able to help more than you know," Hackett said. Shepard glanced at him quizzically. The admiral sat forward, clasping his hands before him. "I mentioned that I had private business to discuss with you, and I wasn't lying. I came here to visit you, but also to share some important information with you.

"Commander Shepard, the Alliance wants to promote you to the rank of Admiral."

Shepard's expression transitioned from one of idle curiosity to one of unabashed astonishment. He gaped. "Me? Admiral? But – I'm still a commander. That's a hell of a jump."

Hackett nodded. "Absolutely. But let's be frank, here, Shepard, the galaxy is a dark place right now. The Reapers may be gone, but entire planets are in complete disarray. Millions, maybe even billions, of beings have died over the last year. It was only by the skin of our teeth that we pulled through alive. I wouldn't be surprised if the order of the galaxy that we knew before the war is completely upended by the time the reconstruction is complete. The people need a hero, Shepard, and that hero is you."

Shepard shook his head, clearly at a loss for words. "But – 'admiral?'"

"Alliance command thinks that promoting you to admiral, and making a big show of it, will give people hope. If not in the galaxy as a whole, then at least for the Systems Alliance. At least for humanity. And let's face it, Shepard, you've done more to earn it than most officers ever do."

"I – I don't know what to say." Shepard reached up and ran a hand down his jaw, almost but not quite agitatedly.

Concern flared briefly in Hackett. It was all too easy to forget, sitting there and talking with the commander, that he was still recovering from serious wounds, and obviously had significant mental baggage to work through, as well.

The admiral held up a hand. "You don't have to say anything for now. I didn't come here just to tell you that you were being promoted. I came here to tell you that you have a decision to make. Command wanted to promote you as soon as you were conscious, without consulting you, because they feel the people need a morale boost and need it right away. I managed to convince them to wait until you were able to make the decision on your own.

"It's no small decision, either, Shepard, as I'm sure you already realize. The reasons for your promotion may be special, but your duties would be no less considerable and no less real than mine, or any other admiral's. Even in times of peace, becoming an admiral is a full-time commitment, and we're _not _in a time of peace. You would be expected to give every ounce of yourself in service of the Alliance and humanity, as well as its allies."

Hackett met Shepard's eyes meaningfully. "That's a responsibility that shouldn't be shoved on someone without their input. Especially someone who's fought harder than anyone else. Someone who might not want it. Someone who might deserve to set aside the mantle of public servant."

Shepard stared at him for a time, and then a grateful smile slowly spread across his lips. "I owe you one, admiral. Thanks. I'm glad I have someone like you looking out for me." He looked toward the window, and watched the rain splash against it. "That is a big decision," he said softly. "And I'm honored that I'm being considered for the promotion. I just…"

Hackett stood and walked over to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. He, too, watched the rain for a moment, and then turned partially, looking at Shepard. "David Anderson, rest his soul, cared very much for his family, but he had a very hard time juggling his military responsibilities with giving them the attention and love they needed. In the end, it proved impossible. And that was some time before he was promoted to admiral." He turned fully toward the commander. "I won't say it's impossible to have both, but there are very few men that I call colleagues who have managed that juggling act successfully. You may want to keep that in mind when you tell miss Zorah your decision."

Shepard nodded slowly, and as a conflict raged almost visibly behind his eyes, Hackett could tell his point was made. "Right."

Hackett turned his gaze briefly back to the window, and then walked over to stand beside Shepard's bed. He slowly lifted a hand to his head in salute. "You've done us all a great service, commander. You stood by the Alliance, humanity, and the free galaxy in general, even when they had abandoned you. Whatever you decide, it's been my privilege to know you, as a soldier and as a man."

Shepard smiled warmly at him and returned the salute, unable to contain a slight wince, presumably at the pain of lifting his arm. "The privilege has definitely been mine, admiral Hackett."

* * *

Miranda Lawson and Jacob Taylor sat next to each other in the hospital lobby, chairs turned to face the large windows, which afforded a generous view of the stormy tumult taking place outside. Trees swayed in an increasingly strong wind, which bore leaves up, up, into aimless, swirling, doomed voyages. So heavy was the downpour that, over the course of only an hour, deep puddles pockmarked the ground.

"I used to hate rain when I was a kid," Jacob said, breaking a comfortable silence which had lasted for some minutes. He was positioned casually in his chair, arms crossed, head lolling to the side, watching the rain thoughtfully. "Was like a death sentence. Couldn't go outside and make an ass of myself playing whatever sport I was in to at the time." He chuckled. "Now, though? Can't stop looking at it. Never realized how beautiful it was until I spent years in spaceships. Climate control is nice and all, but it sure is boring."

Miranda smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of her eye. "I've always loved rain. Even when I was a girl. I was always so preoccupied with my problems, or the things I _perceived _as problems, that I feel like I missed out on a lot. But rain…I always took time to appreciate it. It soothed me. Kept me from losing my mind sometimes when I thought I might go crazy."

"You? Crazy?" Jacob glanced at her, eye twinkling. "Now _that's _crazy."

Miranda arched a shapely eyebrow. "Jacob, are you sarcastically implying that I am, in fact, crazy?"

Jacob laughed and shifted in his chair, letting his hands fall into his lap. "See? You _do _understand me. All those years we spent together in Cerberus really did pay off."

Miranda laughed, too, softly. "I suppose they did. Still, I could go without hearing the word 'Cerberus' ever again." She shook her head ruefully. "The one time in my life I thought for _sure_ that I was making the right choice, it turned out I was being duped. We were _all _being duped."

Jacob's expression turned solemn. "Miranda, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You accomplished good things when you were with Cerberus. You can't keep blaming yourself for the crazy shit the Illusive Man was doing behind all of our backs. You didn't know. Man was good at keeping secrets."

Miranda sighed. "I know. I'm more than ready to move on with my life and try to forget about all that." She turned her face to Jacob, smiling. "I've been meaning to ask. How's Brynn?"

Jacob's face brightened at the mention of his wife. "Doing good. We've been living out of a freighter that she and a few of the other ex-Cerberus scientists fixed up. Not as good as having a house of our own, but that'll come." He rubbed his hands together slowly. "Baby's due in a couple of weeks. I'm glad to be here for Shepard, but I'm gonna have to make like James and jet pretty soon. Pretty sure she'd kill me if I missed our kid's birth."

Miranda quashed the reflexive flare of jealousy within her, a jealousy that stemmed from her knowledge that she would never know the joy of bearing a child due to her infertility, and slapped lightly at his shoulder. He grinned at her. "I'd help her do the killing if you pulled a stunt like that. I'd make sure we picked the most painful method possible, too."

Jacob chortled. "Man, I don't mind fighting Collectors, or Reapers, or whatever else you wanna throw at me, but Brynn _and _you? I don't think I'm gonna risk that."

"Good call, Jacob." Miranda settled comfortably into her seat, adopting a smug expression, and glanced at him sidelong. "Have you talked her out of naming him 'Shepard' yet?"

Jacob grimaced. "Not exactly. Been working at it, but she's pretty set on the idea. Not a big deal. I'll get through to her. I always do."

The two fell silent once more and contented themselves with watching the storm, relishing the feeling of shelter and complete safety which for so long had escaped the both of them. There had been a time, Miranda reflected, where she thought that a life without conflict would be boring and not worth living, but now, she felt quite confidently that a life of peace would suit her very well.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to see Admiral Hackett descending the stairwell, shadowed by his two guards. She briefly entertained her amusement, as she had earlier, that there were two armed soldiers protecting him in a hospital, and then pushed the thought aside and smiled, realizing that he was walking toward her.

He stopped nearby, nodding at her and Jacob. "Mister Taylor. Miss Lawson."

Jacob stood and saluted him; the admiral returned the gesture gravely, apparently not concerned with the fact that he was not enlisted with the Alliance anymore. "Admiral! Your visit with the commander go okay?"

Hackett nodded again. "It went well. It was good to see that he's recovering." He scanned the lobby. "I meant to tell miss Zorah that we were done. Figured she'd want to head back up there. Do you know where she is?"

Miranda smoothed out the wrinkles on her shirt. "She joined up with the quarian admirals and went to see if there were any rations they could eat in the cafeteria. I can fetch her, if you'd like."

Hackett shook his head. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary." He fixed his eyes on her. "I'd actually like to speak with you, if you have a moment to spare."

Miranda, who had spent years perfecting her ability to hide her emotions, was unable to hide her surprise as she blinked at him, but she collected herself quickly. "Of course, admiral."

As she stood, Hackett turned to his guards and nodded wordlessly. They both split off and headed for the hospital exit, standing on either side of the door, just as they had when Hackett arrived earlier. The admiral turned to Jacob. "Excuse us, mister Taylor."

Jacob smiled and exchanged glances with Miranda before settling back down in his seat, pulling a personal data manager from his pocket and setting to interfacing with it. Hackett indicated that Miranda should follow him, and made his way to the far side of the lobby, coming to a halt in the gray light of another window and turning to face her.

He stared out at the storm for a time. "I don't want to take up too much of your time, so I'll make this brief. You've got a hell of a record. I may not agree with the associations you've had in the past, but the past is just that: the past. Ideological disagreements or not, you've proven that you can get things done. We need people like that right now."

Miranda crossed her arms and turned her own gaze to the rain. It sounded very much to her like she was being recruited. This did not trouble her – what troubled her, vaguely, was her reaction to that conclusion. Once, she had scorned the Alliance, unimpressed by their slow responsiveness in the face of the Reaper threat and mass Collector abductions. Now, though, she found her interest piqued.

And why shouldn't she? She had always loved having a task to accomplish, something to focus her mental and physical efforts on, something to make her feel like she was _helping_, both herself and others. In doing so, she was able to become more than the sum of her parts, to transcend and disregard the piggish, shallow purpose her late father would have seen her fulfill.

Still, she maintained a certain aloofness as she turned back to Hackett, whose own blue eyes were now on her. "I'm not sure I follow."

Hackett reached up and smoothed his mustache. "We came out of this war better off than we could have hoped, but we still lost a lot of good people. Many of the great, determined minds that helped push us to victory against the Reapers died in the struggle. We're on the path to recovery, and we _are _rebuilding, but it's going slower than it could be. We need all the help we can get, and we need to put it in the places where it can be of the most use." He nodded at her. "Someone like you could do a lot of good in a command position."

Miranda felt surprise wash over her again, but was able to conceal it this time. "Command? As in – military command?"

"Yes." Hackett took a couple of steps to the side, and then back. "A lot of rules and regulations have been tossed aside out of necessity. The core of it all still exists, but I have emergency authority to instate officers on a temporary basis. I would promote you summarily to a command rank, and post you in an area where you're needed most, either here in Alliance space or beyond. You would be placed in charge of resource management, and the corps of engineers and volunteers in that posting would be expected to follow your orders."

A familiar, and welcome, excitement tingled up Miranda's spine. When she had thought, just a little earlier, that a life of peace would suit her, she had meant it; but now, with the prospect of a new challenge laid out before her, her innate desire to prove herself and to _accomplish _something was coming back in force. Retirement, perhaps, could wait.

She straightened and offered a salute whose crispness surprised even her. "I'd be honored, sir."

Hackett offered one of his rare smiles and activated his omni-tool. "Glad to hear it. I'm heading out, but I'll give you my contact information. Let me know when you're ready to get started, and I'll provide a listing of possible postings for you, so you can decide where you'd be of the most help."

Miranda smiled back and activated her own omni-tool, receiving his data, and as she did so, a realization which had danced about just beyond her grasp finally and truly settled into her mind. Her father _was _gone, her sister _was_ safe, and she felt untainted excitement at the thought of what adventures her future might now hold; a future in which, at long last, she would be able to stop running.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Really sorry this chapter took so long to post. Life has been getting in the way. Story still en route to being finished. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.

Commander Shepard lay in the darkness of his hospital room, sheets drawn up over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. Hackett's visit, not two hours earlier, had been very much welcome – he was one of the men Shepard had always considered a role model, an example of how he might best comport himself – but it had brought only more strife to his already troubled mind.

_The Alliance wants to promote you to the rank of Admiral_

Shepard tossed restlessly in his bed, on to his side, so that he was facing Tali. She was sitting in her chair, head hanging over her chest, which rose and fell steadily as she slept.

_Very few men have managed that juggling act successfully_

Another agitated repositioning found Shepard once again on his back, eyes fixed above.

After Hackett's departure, Tali had wasted little time in rejoining him, and for once, for the first time since he had regained consciousness, Shepard had found that a part of him was dismayed by her presence. It was not, he knew, any change in his love for her which caused it; but the mere fact of her being there served to multiply the stress of his decision exponentially. Every straying of his mind, into the viewpoint that becoming an admiral might be the right choice, made him feel as though a knife was twisting into his chest, made him feel like a traitor. He had not even been able to bring himself to tell her about the promotion offer, skirting the subject entirely.

Shepard's eyes snapped open, and he realized that he had been falling asleep. Weariness consumed him, left a great weight on his eyelids, but his racing thoughts continued undiminished.

He had _promised _her, only the night before, that he would not let anything come between them again. Would not accepting the Alliance's promotion be an outright breaking of that vow? Hackett had not diced words – he had made it explicitly clear that admiralty was a full-time commitment. He could not pour all of his soul, all of his attention, all of his passion, into both the love of his life _and _public service. It was one or the other.

Shepard held his hand up and stared at its vague outline, obscured by the darkness. It felt like he had been serving the Alliance for his entire life. Things had come before it, people and events and memories, but it was his military service that defined him. He had been honed from an average, unremarkable person into a disciplined warrior, into someone capable of making the kind of difference which he had always craved making. He felt that he owed a great debt to the Alliance for that much, regardless of how they had virtually disowned him after being resurrected by Cerberus.

The accursed voice in his head, the one whose cruel fangs gnawed into him in solitude and in the dark watches of the night, derided him for that gratitude. What did he have to thank _them_ for? His accomplishments were his own. Had he not joined the Alliance, he would have found success in some other field, would have tapped his inner potential in other ways. His life might have taken a less painful course. He might not have been doomed to watch friends and comrades die in countless battlegrounds, might not have had to shoulder the burden of fighting for the entire galaxy even when they had forsaken him, might not have had to endure the blood of billions staining his hands – if anything, the Alliance owed _him_ a debt –

Shepard breathed in deeply, and then exhaled. His hand dropped to the mattress noiselessly. The selfishness of such thoughts unnerved him, and the ever-increasing prevalence of those dark whisperings in his mind chilled him outright. The fact that his remorse was manifesting itself into an untargeted bitterness was alarming – how long until he lashed out, at his friends or at Tali? He almost yearned to be back in the thick of the Reaper war again, when his purpose was clear and his conscience relatively clear.

His heart told him, now, that becoming an admiral would be _wrong_. It was not his commitment to service, to the Alliance, which had motivated him to rise from the wreckage of London and hold on to life; it had been her, the woman sitting next to his bed, and the thought of spending the rest of that life with her. This realization brought with it a sense of epiphany and crystalline understanding, as though he'd spent decades puzzling over a complex riddle only to find that the key to its mysteries had been hiding in plain sight the entire time.

But doubt was quick to seep in and taint that understanding, threatening to drag it down into dark depths and drown it forever. Did Tali deserve to spend a lifetime with a man consumed by guilt and bitterness? Did she deserve to spend all of her years loving him and trying to heal him only to receive nothing in return? No – she deserved, and needed, much more than that. A woman as remarkable as she was deserved someone who appreciated her, and could reciprocate every bit of the plentiful love and spirit she had to offer – and while he wanted nothing more than to _be _that someone, if he could not, then was he really selfish enough to stand in the way of her happiness?

The world became blurry as Shepard's eyes crept inexorably shut. Perhaps spending the rest of his living years as an admiral _would _be best. Perhaps it would keep him busy enough that his inner demons might be kept at bay, would minimalize his chances of lashing out and hurting someone. No personal life meant no loved ones with hearts to break. Tali would be able to find a man who could give her what she needed, someone whose light could brighten her darkest days.

Shepard succumbed to a troubled sleep.

* * *

He stood on the cliffs of Rannoch, bathed blood-red by the planet's setting sun, toward which dark multilayered clouds crawled. Before him lay the smoldering ruin of the Reaper which had controlled the geth heretics, directing them against the quarian fleet, poised to manipulate their considerable might against the organic civilizations which were its prey.

_Murderer._

Panic. Shepard's eyes widened, and he swiveled around, for although the voice was the Reaper's, booming and mechanical, it had come not from the ancient corpse, but from behind him. He inhaled sharply at the sight of its source.

"You," he hissed.

The ethereal, glowing blue form of the Catalyst walked to him in a way that seemed disjointed from reality, so that it appeared more to be gliding on the air.

_Murderer. That is what you called us. _

The intelligence stopped next to Shepard, looking out over Rannoch.

_Perhaps now you _

_Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness_

_better understand._

Shepard squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, unable to believe what his sight told him, for now Thane, the late drell whom had served on the Normandy during the Collector crisis and became his dear friend, stood in the Catalyst's place. Blood dripped from a wound on his lower torso.

"Nothing has changed," Shepard spat defiantly. "Nothing could ever change what you've done. You still wiped out countless civilizations, committed genocide over and over again – "

_Everything has changed._

Shepard stumbled back a step, reflexively holding up a protective arm at the deafening volume of the interruption. The other entity turned toward him, the one he had thought was Thane, but that could not have been right, for it was the Illusive Man whose blue eyes drilled into his.

_Billions of geth runtimes were in operation at the moment of decision, and yet, knowing full well it would destroy them, you activated _

_I tried, Shepard_

_the Crucible. _

Mordin Solus turned back to the Reaper corpse, to the setting sun, holding his thin arms wide.

_You exterminated many so that others could live. This is no different from the mandate _

_Someone else might have gotten it wrong_

_the Reapers sought to fulfill._

"No," Shepard said, but his voice was weak and quavering, and he felt the hollowness of the retort as surely as the other heard it, as surely as his eyes betrayed it. "It's not the same. It's not the same at all. Your logic was twisted. It was evil. How can you possibly say that destroying organic life every time it reaches a certain point _preserves _life?"

David Anderson sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the long drop to the valley below, looking wearied in his dirtied combat uniform.

_Listen to yourself. Hear the folly of your words. Do you imagine the geth you murdered would have been any more understanding of _your _reasoning in their sacrifice than you are_

_Feels like years since I just sat down_

_of ours?_

Shepard was dimly aware that he'd fallen to his knees. He shook his head feebly and buried his head in his palms. "No," he said again, but this time it was even weaker, even more lacking in conviction. "We're not the same. I…had to destroy them…or you would have destroyed us…" He lifted his head and glared at the other with glistening eyes. "Legion opposed you. He wanted you defeated. He would have underst – "

Legion stood on the edge of the cliff, facing away from him, for now Shepard was yards behind him, far from the position he'd been kneeling on seconds before.

_Your fellows applaud you as a hero, but you are no more a hero than_

_Shepard-Commander_

_the Reapers before you._

"Legion," Shepard croaked, rising shakily, and staggered forward, hand reaching out, but the distance between them grew no shorter, seemed, in fact, to grow greater, and now panic and despair filled him. "I didn't want to do it, Legion – if there had been any other way – please, _forgive me_ – "

The geth turned slowly toward him, its eyepiece looking to him, and then he burst into fierce red flame, a flame so bright that Shepard stopped in his tracks and shielded his eyes, screaming out, and the gnawing whispers of doubt and guilt and bitterness rose into a deafening discordance, and he knew, with a heavy certitude, that forgiveness would never be his.

* * *

Tali's dreams, too, were troubled, a maelstrom of vague and unspecific discomfiture which, while less severe than her nightmares resulting from Shepard's presumed death, were no less unwelcome. That she was haunted in her sleep even in this safe haven, with the man she loved and trusted most nearby, was testimony to her fresh uncertainties.

From the moment the newsfeed had announced Shepard was alive, a clear path forward had embedded itself in Tali's mind, one that appeared almost naive to her now. She would be reunited with him, and they would give each other comfort and peace, and they would spend the rest of their lives bathed in the golden light of Rannoch, the homeworld she and the rest of her people had dreamed of reclaiming for centuries; theirs would be a life of flawless perfection, with food aplenty, good friends, and in this vision she even, irrationally, envisioned a child, one with its father's bravery and perhaps its mother's awkwardness, though she knew full well that such a fortune was denied to her.

Admiral Hackett's visit that day had served to jar her out of that waking dream. She, like her boyfriend, had been pleased to see him - even honored, that such an important figure would see fit to stop by - but in the admiral's eyes, and in the tone of his voice, she had detected something which sent her stomach churning and tweaked no small amount of suspicion: business. Hackett was a man with impressive self-control, but even with his natural barriers, barriers which no doubt had kept countless adversaries on edge through his career, Tali had been able to discern that he was there for more than a friendly check-in.

Tali had realized, as she went downstairs and, joined by a high-spirited Koris and amicably weary Raan, scrounged about the cafeteria for foodstuffs compatible with quarian palettes, that her suspicion was likely irrational. After all, just because she had detected a businesslike undertone to Hackett's demeanor did not necessarily indicate anything to be worried about. Perhaps he simply wished to extend the formal gratitude of Alliance command, or to ask Shepard for his presence at some function or other sometime in the future.

But still, Tali worried, and more - something like a possessive jealousy had gripped her at the thought that Hackett's intent could be to enlist Shepard's aid for the Alliance. She had endured so much heartbreak, had put dear friends at risk, to be with him again, and the idea that circumstances might conspire to divide them once more inspired a kind of panic deep in her gut.

At the same time, Tali was a rational girl at her core, and as her mind reeled and her heart pattered at the long dining table, listening to her fellow admirals bicker about Ancestors knew what, she had been unable to suppress a wry smile and rueful shake of her head. Leave it to her to find some sinister, devious purpose in the goodwill and kindness of an old ally. A mental image of Shepard, grinning and chuckling as she shared her thoughts with him, had flashed in her mind; this cheered her immeasurably, and it had been with a lighter spirit that she left the cafeteria, managing to shake Koris's dogged questions about Hackett ("Forgive me if I've already asked, but - what did he discuss with the commander? Did he mention me? Of course, I'm not certain he heard my name properly, may indeed have confused him - being human, mind you, not questioning his intelligence – ") and rejoining Shepard in his room.

Her doubts had been quick to return, though, as it became clear he was hiding something from her. What it was, precisely, she could only guess; but she knew that he was just as perturbed by the concealment as she was, and somehow that made it all infinitely worse. He was wounded, yes, physically and mentally, but he had never been dishonest with her, even before their relationship escalated. That he, too, was wrestling with some internal strife made her feel both worried for him and insecure - for while she would willingly help to shoulder his burdens, if she could not lean on _him_, could not take comfort in _his_ stability, where, then, would she find hers?

As she awoke to find the room still bathed in the blackness of night, her auditory emulators detecting only silence and the periodic _beep_ of the medical devices nearby, these unwelcome thoughts resumed as though they'd never been broken, as though she'd not slipped into sleep at all. Tali spent a moment gaining her bearings, reaching up and absently rubbing at the surface of her purple visor. She set to reposition herself in her chair, resigned to more uneasy slumber - but a light caught her eye, and she paused, squinting blearily in its direction.

Her breath caught in her throat as she registered what she was seeing. She leaned forward anxiously, nearly catapulting out of the seat. "Shepard? Shepard, are you okay?"

Shepard slowly dragged a hand, which had been covering his eyes, down the length of his face, and then let it fall on his chest. He gave her a strained smile, but made no effort to wipe away the tear which was glistening on his cheek, capturing the scant light coming in through the window. "Hey," he said in a cracked, muted voice. He reached out and rested a hand on her arm with the slowness and imprecision of someone not yet fully awake. "Go back to sleep."

Tali's brows knit close together, and pain lanced briefly through her heart. They had always been so close, so open with each other, and suddenly she found herself fearing that she was losing him. How many more truths would he conceal from her? More importantly, _why_?

She placed one of her delicate hands atop his, pinning it to her arm. "Don't do this. Don't push me away." She used her free hand to gently wipe his tear away, speaking softly. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

Shepard's eyes - wet and glistening, she noted - flickered down in the direction of her hand, and then, as it withdrew, to her eyes. It was as though her touch had flicked some unseen trigger: his lips, tightly pursed in an apparent bid to maintain composure, began to quaver slightly; his brow furrowed and twitched as he fought to contain new tears - but it was a failed effort, and a new drop spilled down his cheek.

Tali, whose empathy had always been uniquely acute - she remembered, as a girl, breaking down into tears as a peer she had never even _liked_ mourned a pet - felt her heart lanced with pain, just as it had been upon first seeing Shepard on his hospital bed, in obvious agony. She clasped both hands to either of his cheeks and, unable to conjure any words, simply gazed into his eyes, trying to communicate all of her support and love, trying to give him strength as he had always provided her with his.

Shepard gripped her forearms tightly, almost mechanically, continuing to stare up at her, the muscles of his face working agitatedly. Tali waited with bated breath, praying to every god and any god that he would say something, anything, that he would just open up to her and let her help him and love him. It was a release that she had known, in the back of her mind, needed to happen - she remembered the shadow that had passed in Shepard's eyes while describing his awakening in the rubble of London, felt, now, that persistent unrest had tainted his spirit throughout her stay in Nathan Levitt Medical Center; an unrest that she realized, guiltily, that she had ignored, hoping that it would resolve itself and allow her to bask in much-desired contentedness.

"Legion," Shepard whispered hoarsely, abruptly, an imploring desperation in his eyes.

Tali's pulse hastened for a moment as she stroked his cheek, waiting for him to continue - but he said no more, only looked to her. Was that what was bothering him? Had Legion's death impacted him more than she thought? Or was it something deeper, something related? Qualms, maybe, about the resolution of the geth and quarian conflict?

"Legion?" Tali echoed quietly. She sighed. "I know. I miss him, too." Her hand moved up and massaged his forehead. "But he died at peace. He knew that our people were done fighting. And he knew that you were a big part of that, Shep - "

"No," Shepard cut her off fiercely. Tali blinked at the ferocity of it, but the aching of her heart only increased in tandem, for all of the venom in his voice was directed not at her but at himself. "You don't understand, Tali. Legion died so that the geth could have true life. He died because he knew his legacy would endure forever. And I..."

Tali's glowing eyes searched his face. "What?" She prompted delicately, for while part of her wanted to shout at him, scream at him, that he needed to stop beating himself up, that he needed to realize that everyone knew he had tried his best, had done more than anyone else to bring peace, she understood that he needed this - needed to say aloud what was bothering him, needed to end his solitary bearing of a burden great enough to make him shed tears.

Shepard's vicelike grip on her forearms tightened, but she did not attempt to pull free of it. His face contorted into a grimace of pain, but it was not the kind of pain that could be cured by any of Bont's manifold medicines. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes seeming to go in and out of focus, like his perception of her was being interjected with that of ghosts and specters.

And then those eyes, eyes which she had always been able to lose herself in, fixated on her, and she felt an inexplicable chill go down her spine. "I killed them, Tali," he whispered, a tear pooling and spilling down to the pillow. He pulled her closer; she opened her mouth to say something, but he kept going. "I killed the geth. They were just starting to live - Legion sacrificed himself so they could _live_ - and I killed them."

His grip relaxed and then released. Tali sat back in her chair dazedly, mind struggling to process what it was, exactly, that Shepard was telling her. He ran a hand perfunctorily through his close-cut hair, staring into space.

"I saw him," he said, louder now, but his voice still shook - not significantly, just enough to betray a torment that he was trying and failing to control. "In my dream, just now. I - I tried to reach for him..." He held a hand before his eyes, uncurling its fingers slowly. "I asked him to forgive me. Oh, god, I just want him to_ forgive_ me." He looked to Tali again, beseechingly. "I just want to know - that I made the right decision. I just want - I just _wish_ - that I could hear him say it."

His gaze fell. "But I can't. And I didn't. He didn't say anything, he just - burned...and I felt - I felt like _I_ was the one who did it." He shook his head slowly. "I've taken so many lives, Reapers and Collectors and even other human beings...but I've never felt like a _murderer_ before. Not until...this."

Tali said nothing, felt paralyzed, and only stared down into her lap, wringing her hands, ponderously and deliberately, a contrast to the hasty and compulsory fidgeting brought on by moments of embarassment. They sat that way for a time, both trying to figure out what came next, both realizing that it was impossible to know.

Finally Tali turned her head minutely in Shepard's direction, her eyes turning up to his. "We didn't know, Shepard. When you reached the Citadel beam, when you got on to the Crucible...you had no idea what it would do. None of us did. We just - hoped. That it would destroy the Reapers. No one knew it would kill other synthetics, too." She leaned in and rested her hands on one of his. "It's not your fault."

Shepard turned to her, too, head still canted down, so that he had to look up to meet her gaze. "I knew," he said quietly, voice cracking. Tali stiffened. "When I got on to the Crucible. I knew. The Catalyst told me."

"'Catalyst?'"

Shepard nodded. "The A.I. that controlled the Reapers. Made them. The entire Citadel was just its home, its body. This...ancient 'intelligence'..." his fist clenched so tightly that Tali's auditory emulators detected the sound of it. "Passed its _judgment_ thousands of years ago. Decided organic civilizations needed to die every fifty thousand years to prevent synthetic takeover."

Hard, cold slits, almost unrecognizable from the usual expressive warmth of her lover's eyes, pierced Tali's visor and sent another shiver down her back. "This bastard, this - _monster_ - dealt terms to me. While millions of people were fighting and dying because it said so, it told me what my choices were...and I _took them_, Tali. I chose to destroy the Reapers even though I knew the geth would die, too. That EDI would die."

The harshness faded, and Shepard slumped, looking smaller and more defeated than Tali had ever seen him. "I wasn't strong enough," he said thickly, tears escaping from both eyes, one trembling hand coming to rest on his forehead. "I was selfish, Tali - I couldn't stand the thought of losing you, the thought of you dying, of Garrus or Kaidan or Liara any of our friends dying, and I was so _selfish_ - "

"Stop," Tali said as firmly as she could manage, getting to her feet and grasping his shoulders, and then her voice softened, and she leaned down, taking Shepard into an embrace, because while she did not know what to make of his words, did not know how to feel about what he was saying, she still knew one thing, strongly and without doubt: that she loved him. "Please...stop."

Shepard's strong arms wrapped around her with desperate tightness, as though she might disappear if he let go, and for the first time since they had met, since they had fallen in love, the bravest man she had ever known sobbed openly; not loudly, not stridently, but in the quiet, pure sadness of one whose soul has been truly and deeply wounded. Tali held him close, feeling her own eyes grow hot and wet until cool rivulets formed on her pale cheeks. She shared his pain, but at the same time felt a strange relief and happiness blossoming in her chest, because he had told her, he had trusted her as she trusted him, and as long as that was true, she knew they could work through any hardship together.

After what seemed a very long time, Shepard's muffled sobs subsided, and Tali pulled back slightly, her face hovering over his. She reached up with gloved fingers and gently, lovingly, wiped his cheeks clean.

"I can't say anything to make this go away," she said softly. "I can't say it'll all be okay, because...it won't. You did something that hurt you, and this is a cut that I don't think will heal.

"But, Shepard - " she planted her hands on either of his cheeks. He met her gaze unwaveringly, eyes glistening. "Maybe that's how it should be. When I thought you were dead, I knew my heart would never heal completely. I decided that was good. I wanted to always remember you, and how you enriched my life. And now...you need to let this wound remind _you_. Of Legion and the geth. The price you paid so that trillions of beings, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, could live."

And then she moved closer, so that her visor brushed against his nose, and she whispered: "_You're not a monster_."

Shepard's lips trembled, but remained tightly pursed, and as she embraced him again, he returned it just as tightly as before.

This time, he did not cry.

* * *

While, outside, the sun rose behind the cover of thick clouds, Javik watched Liara contemplatively as she and Miranda exited the female restroom (a concept which struck him as positively ridiculous) nearest the hospital lobby, chatting lightly. As ever, he found himself unable to fully grasp the concept of the lighthearted banter which so many of that cycle's inhabitants frequently engaged in. From the moment he had been born, during the final stages of his cycle's extermination, the importance and desperation of his purpose had been drilled into him and all of his peers; humor, in the rare moments where it was allowed, had been dark and macabre, and even the most personal interactions were tainted by the looming Reaper menace, making it difficult to divert to more easy conversational topics. Javik had been truly close to the crew of the vessel he had once commanded, but could not remember exchanging as many jokes with them in years of comradeship as his present company exchanged in a single hour.

His sharp perception of emotion - a source, he knew, of frequent discomfort for some - enabled him to discern, loosely, what his lover and her friend were discussing. His hearing, of course, was very sharp and missed little within a great range, but he took idle pleasure in ignoring audio as best he could and using what James Vega had once referred to as his 'sixth sense,' instead. It was a kind of sport, he reflected somewhat wistfully, that only a prothean could understand.

Liara was exuding nothing but warmth and calm, albeit with an occasional uptick of anxiety, borne, no doubt, from the mission she and Javik were planning to undertake that morning; Miranda, meanwhile, offered a more complicated emotional portrait. There was no ill will, but the calm happiness she was outwardly displaying was a well-practiced mask. He could feel that her focus was entirely on something else, something that she was very much anticipating.

Javik collected himself hastily as he noticed Liara giving a little wave and breaking off from Miranda, moving toward him. She gave him one of her curiously endearing smiles, which seemed at once vulnerable and shy and shrewd. "Sorry that took so long. I didn't expect to have company in there."

Javik propelled himself off of the wall on which he had been leaning and uncrossed his arms. "No matter. Are you ready?"

She nodded. "Yes. But - " She glanced quizically at the male bathroom. "You don't have to - ?"

Javik gave her a grim look. "I have not yet sunk so low. The Normandy was bad enough." He stalked off. "Come."

Though she was behind him, he felt rather than saw her amused eyeroll, a gesture, he had learned, which indicated incredulity. He suppressed a smile; while it was true that he found the human bathrooms awkward and unwieldy, he knew that he had been at least subconsciously trying to make her laugh. He would never have expected it, but the lyrical sound of Liara's laughter brought on a foreign and pleasant lightness in his stomach, and he was almost as intent on discovering what tickled her as he had been on defeating the Reapers.

Liara caught up to him and walked alongside. She looked around. "Did you happen to catch the time, last time we passed a clock?"

"It was 0800 when we left the lobby. The commander has had ample time to sleep."

"Is that so?" Liara quirked a brow, lip twitching upward.

Javik nodded solemnly. This brought on a laugh from his companion, and he basked in the sound, still at a loss as to why he enjoyed it so much. Liara wrapped her arms around one of his without losing a step. "Well, I hope you're right. I'd hate to wake Shepard up, but if I have to wait one more day to visit him, I might go insane."

Javik's pleasure at her merriment quickly spiraled into awkwardness. Although protheans did not suffer the same blushing as humans, he figured that what he felt at that moment was not entirely dissimilar. He grunted his affirmation.

Liara's smile widened, her blue eyes scanning his face benignly, and he could sense a swelling of affection in her which, somehow, did little to dispel his discomfort. "Javik, am I embarrassing you?"

"You speak nonsense, woman," Javik grumbled.

Another laugh was her response, and to the prothean's immense bewilderment, the lightness in his stomach returned despite his sudden surlyness. What was it about this asari that allowed her to mess with his emotions more effectively than any Reaper? "You know, the way you get all shy when I do this kind of thing in public is very nearly adorable."

Javik snorted. "That is a word I would prefer never to hear again in that context." And then, on an impulse which only baffled him further, he reached up and gave her hand a brief squeeze.

They continued down the corridors in contented silence, watching the flurry of activity all around them. A darkness appeared in Javik's perception of Liara, and he turned to her, frowning. "Something troubles you."

Liara glanced at him and then to the floor. "Javik, I've been...meaning to apologize."

Javik waited patiently until she continued. "On the roof the other day, I...got a little upset." She giggled quietly. "Well, that's an understatement. I got very upset. And I - said some things without thinking."

She stopped walking, extricating herself from Javik, who also came to a halt, facing her. Her expressive blue eyes turned up to him. "I didn't mean to disrespect your former crew. You obviously loved them, and I'm sure they were brave and capable men. I was just...so..." She trailed off, holding her hands out helplessly.

Javik said nothing for a long moment, simply letting his four eyes drill into her; as he expected of her, this strong and vibrant woman he had somehow fallen in love with, her gaze did not waver, and he detected no deceit in her words - the apology was genuine.

Just as he began to detect traces of nervousness in her - she surely feared she had said something wrong - he gave her a simple smile, his gaze softening. Relief poured out of her, and she reciprocated with a grin of her own. Happiness mingled with her relief as he took one of her hands and led her off, continuing their voyage to Shepard's room, knowing that she understood his love for her went deeper than any words could diminish.

* * *

The first thing Shepard noticed as he opened his eyes to begin a new day was Tali, snuggled next to him on his bed, one arm draped over his chest. The mattress was only designed for one occupant, and as a result the both of them were poised to slip off the edge - but Shepard didn't care, because for the first time in weeks, he not only felt alive, but clear, too, like an immeasurable weight had been lifted off of him.

The former commanding officer of the Normandy SR-2 took a deep, contented breath and nuzzled against the top of his quarian neighbor's visor. Memories flooded through his brain, but they were not those of friends dying, as they had been on waking for so long, and no accusatory voice whispered venom into his mind; instead he remembered Tali's support, and her love, that night, only hours ago, how she had helped him orient his perspective. This newfound sense of calm, long yearned for and persistently elusive, was thanks entirely to her, and the same, simple affection he had felt the other night, promising her that he would not let anything get between them again, swelled in him anew.

She had been right, earlier, and he knew the simplicity of her truth was the reason he had not been able to reach the same conclusion on his own - he had made a choice, one that left a wound, and it would not heal; indeed, _should_ not, lest he forget the grim price paid for an end to cataclysmic war and genocide. No, he would carry this hurt, this internal pain - but he would not let it consume him, and he would not let it interfere with the important matters of the present.

He had, after all, made a promise.

Tali stirred, stretching her long, spry quarian legs, and rubbed his chest lazily with a hand. He looked down only to see that she was looking up at him with her smart, glowing eyes, and for a time neither one said anything.

Shepard broke the silence, speaking quietly in their close quarters. He placed a hand tenderly on the side of her visor. "Thanks."

Her fingers rose from his chest and rested atop his. "I reach for you," she whispered. "And you can always reach for me. I love you, Shepard."

"And I love you, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy." He twisted his hand and engulfed hers tightly. "More than I'll ever be able to express."

"We've got time," she replied dryly, and he heard the smile in her voice as she snuggled closer.

Shepard was prepared to launch an appropriately romantic reply when suddenly the door to his room swung unceremoniously open, revealing a rather unsettlingly dark Javik, his four eyes seeming to glow with unusual brightness on a face swathed in shadow. This situation was promptly rectified as the prothean flicked on the lights, whose services were much-needed considering that the murky cloudiness of the day prior had only intensified, rendering the daylight streaming in through the window largely useless.

Liara followed him in, gasping quietly at the scene which greeted her. The four of them stared at each other in a kind of stupor until finally Tali grudgingly pulled away from Shepard and got to her feet.

"Goddess, I'm _so_ sorry," Liara said, speaking rapidly. "We didn't mean to interrupt anything. I was afraid this might happen - " She turned to Javik and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward her and the door. "We'll come back later."

"Liara," Tali said loudly, freezing the asari and her bemused-looking prothean companion in their tracks. "Don't worry. We're awake. You guys can stay." Clearly confident that the matter was settled, she looked to Shepard. "I'll get your water. Handle the meds?"

He glanced at the pill bottles on his bedside table and nodded. Liara watched uncertainly as Tali walked around the bed and brushed past her to the water dispenser until Javik placed a hand on the small of her back and spoke close to her ear. "There is no need to delay. Go. Sit."

This blunt rationality shook Liara out of her polite hesitation. She smiled briefly at Javik and made her way over to Shepard, assuming the bedside chair and beaming at him. "It's so good to see you. I've been looking forward to stopping by."

Shepard broke into a wide and relaxed grin, and he basked in the lack of strain behind it; it felt like all of his levity since regaining consciousness had been at least somewhat forced and insincere, bogged down by an open and untreated internal wound which had been finally, lovingly salved. "Great to see you, too, Liara. You look great. Healthy." His eyes fell on Javik, standing behind the chair, hands planted on the upper back. "Thanks for coming by, both of you."

The prothean nodded, following Tali's progress as she returned to Shepard's side and offered him a cup of water. "Your condition appears to be improving, commander."

"Mm." Shepard grunted around his cup as he drank a myriad of pills down. He lowered it, now empty, to his lap. "Gets better every day." He shot a mysterious, meaningful glance at Tali. "Especially this one."

Javik and Liara blinked at one another, and then the former's eyes lit in understanding. "Ah, yes. Sexual release was considered a standard part of some rehabilitation programs in my cycle."

The three other inhabitants of the room gaped at him and then burst into simultaneous laughter. Javik frowned at them, nonplussed, until the last chuckle subsided.

Shepard wiped at the corner of his eye. "That's not what I meant, Javik. But thanks for sharing." He arched a brow at Liara. "I think that should make for an interesting chapter in your book on the protheans."

Liara giggled. Javik, not to be deterred, pressed on. "If my interpretation was inaccurate, then what were you insinuating?"

"Nothing." Shepard shook his head and smiled up at Tali. "Don't worry about it. Tali's just been a big help." He appraised Liara and Javik in turn. "Really, all of you guys have been. Seeing everyone has been great medicine." He grimaced and indicated his med containers. "Better than this stuff, anyway."

Tali leaned in and gave him a hug. "I'm going to get some fresh air. Feels like I haven't been outside for months." She straightened and gave a friendly little wave to Javik and Liara. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

Liara and Javik beamed at her and nodded stoically, respectively. The quarian left, moving a little stiffly - longtime resident of the Migrant Fleet as she was, nothing could quite have prepared her for the discomfort of sharing a single hospital bed with her strongly-built boyfriend. Shepard grinned after her, and then turned his attention to his visitors. "So what've you guys been up to?"

Liara crossed one leg over the other and rested a hand atop the uppermost knee. "A little of this, a little of that." She cocked her head to one side. "Tali might have mentioned that I've retired as the Shadow Broker?"

Shepard raised his eyebrows and whistled. "That's a bombshell. No, guess she hasn't had a chance to mention that yet." His expression turned more serious. "Liara, you weren't in some kind of _trouble_, were you? Because we could - "

"Nothing like that," Liara interceded hastily, waving a hand dismissively. "I was just - tired. Like I said to Tali, being the Shadow Broker was consuming my entire life. I felt like I was losing myself. Now that the Reapers are gone, I decided it was okay to avoid that, and I left Feron in charge."

Shepard nodded. "Sounds like you made the right call, Liara. There's no doubt that you got us some valuable intel, but I worried about you."

Liara smiled warmly. "I know you did." She turned her face up to Javik. "Anyway, Javik and I spent some time on Thessia, volunteering to rebuild some of the damage. We made some big decisions there. Good ones."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Liara faced Shepard again, gesticulating vaguely in accompaniment to her words. "The simplest decision was for me to return to archaeology. I don't regret for a _second _the time I spent serving with you, Shepard, and I know the things we accomplished were far more important than digging up old ruins. But I missed it, nonetheless."

"That's great, Liara," Shepard said earnestly, and then crossed his arms, speaking wryly. "Think you'll be able to drop it again if I need your help fighting another race of sentient doomsday machines?"

Liara leaned back, pursing her lips in mock contemplation. "Depends. If you rescue me from another dig site situation, I'll find a way to manage."

Shepard laughed, wincing and holding the side of his torso. "Deal. So are you going to join up with old colleagues or something?"

"You could say that," Liara replied cryptically. Shepard blinked confusedly at her, and only barely managed to avoid gaping as the asari reached back and took one of Javik's hands into hers. "Javik and I are...together, Shepard. He'll be traveling with me." She smiled. "And we'll work on that book you mentioned, too."

The commander worked his mouth slightly a few times, as though searching for words, and then simply stared up at Javik, who met his gaze blankly and nodded. "It is true, commander. I love her."

"Oh," Shepard said lamely, and then cleared his throat, regaining some composure. "That's - great, too. Really." He chuckled. "I hope I'm not being rude. Just...well, I'll be honest, I did _not_ see that coming."

Liara laughed. "I understand. I don't think_ we_ saw it coming, either."

Shepard's smile widened, and he looked to Javik again. "You're into archaeology, Javik? I wouldn't have guessed."

The prothean shrugged loosely. "My only interest in this existence has ever been to avenge my people. The Reaper menace has been erased, and the prothean empire rests easily. Whether or not I am interested in archaeology will be determined on the field." He considered the window for a moment. "The ruins we discover will likely be from my cycle. This intrigues me. There is much I might learn."

"That's a good point," Shepard agreed quietly, nodding. "There wasn't much time for history lessons during your life, was there?"

"Indeed not," Javik said in a way that heavily implied the topic was closed. While he seemed considerably more open to interaction than he had been on the Normandy, it was obvious that he was no more willing to accept pity.

Liara broke the ensuing silence, leaning forward in her chair. "Enough about us. What about you? What are you planning to do with the peace you fought so hard for?"

Shepard scratched at his jaw. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm still trying to come to terms with the way things are. Sometimes I think I'll wake up on the mud in front of the Citadel beam and discover the war never ended. That all of this - " he gestured all-encompassingly about him. " - has just been a dream. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm just taking things one day at a - _ow_!"

He glared at Javik, who had moved close with the stealth of a practiced predator while he spoke. The prothean blinked at him serenely and clasped his hand, which had just jabbed a patch of stitches none-too-gently, behind his back. "You feel pain. This is no dream or hallucination, commander. Clear your mind of such distractions and doubts."

"Thanks," Shepard said sarcastically. Liara clasped a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. Javik nodded, face unreadable - Shepard wondered if he had been attempting humor or had been serious - and returned to his place behind his companion's chair.

The asari reached out and squeezed Shepard's shoulder. "That's good, Shepard. Take it one day at a time. We're all here to help you through this, and beyond."

Shepard smiled at her, and at Javik, who nodded his concurrance to her words. "I know. I'm damn lucky to have a crew - friends - like you."

Liara smiled back, gave another squeeze of her hand, and then stood. "We'll let you rest. I'll stop by again soon." She paused. "And please, apologize to Tali for me - I feel horrible for barging in on you two. You looked so _comfortable_..."

"Liara, don't worry about it," Shepard chuckled. "It's not like we were doing anything important." Before she could respond, he gave her a roguish two-fingered salute. "See you soon. And thanks again."

The former Shadow Broker's expression relaxed, and with another wide smile, she made for the door. She stopped, however, when she noticed that Javik remained unmoving, and turned to him. "Are you coming?"

He touched her arm briefly. "Proceed without me. I will catch up with you soon."

Liara showed no sign of confusion at this, and kissed him on his cheek before opening the door and taking her leave; Shepard, however, could not hide his curiosity as he stared at Javik. "What's up?"

The prothean's gaze lingered on the door, and then he stepped closer, stopping next to Shepard's bed. "A strange expression. Inefficient and vague. It relies too heavily on an understanding of obscure slang."

Shepard's eyebrow quirked up. "I'll work on that."

Javik suddenly stiffened into something like military attention, his posture straightening, heels shifting together, but his hands remained slack at his sides. "Commander, I wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude."

Shepard was instantly shaking his head, holding up a hand. "Javik, there's no need to - "

"I insist." Javik hesitated, and then added, less stridently: "Please. It will not take long."

A reluctant nod was the commander's response. Javik lifted his chin. "When you and your squad ended my cyrogenic slumber, I was no more than a mad beast. I knew nothing but anger, and I responded to the confusion of a new world by wrapping myself in arrogance and conceit. I had the gall to think myself as superior to everyone I encountered. I clung to the belief that the prothean empire would rise again, that the Cosmic Imperative would reign supreme once more.

"But I was wrong." Javik paced several steps away and then returned. "The people of this cycle are vastly different from those in my own, and yet they are the same in the ways that matter, and superior in many others. Serving on your crew, I saw acts of bravery and courage. I saw kinship without restraint or shame. Men and women considered each other friend, brother and sister, regardless of their rank or station. I saw..." he glanced down at the floor, and when his eyes rose again, there was a soft light in them. "I saw love, supporting people in times of struggle and darkness, giving a greater meaning to their fight than any military discipline or lifelong breeding could ever hope. Something the protheans needed much more of."

Javik stared hard at Shepard. "So I must thank you, commander. Thank you for awakening me from the purgatory my people placed me in. Thank you for giving me a place in your squad, even when you had no obligation to do so, even when I made no effort to hide my venom and arrogance. But most significantly, commander...thank you for allowing me to learn that life is far more valuable than death.

"To you, I owe my allegiance, my kinship, and my life."

And then Javik the prothean bowed, low and deep, to a man whose species his own had once regarded with the academic curiosity of a man studying a beetle, for the prothean empire was dead, would be dead forever more -

But he was not, and, for this leader of beings, for Liara, for all those he called comrades, he would live for the present.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Just a few chapters to go! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.

Nathan Levitt Medical Center was becoming steadily more crowded as the days passed. Commander Shepard, as it turned out, was not the only ghost to turn up very much alive and in need of medical attention; scores of wounded warriors, bearing the myriad physical attributes and various colors of those races which had opposed the Reapers, were borne in on stretchers at every hour (eliciting frequent grumbles and gripes from Jorgal Finn, who, to the immense amusement of Wrex, was a very light sleeper - a traditionally perceived feminine trait among the krogan); correspondingly, more hospital staff, nurses and doctors, cooks and cleaners, were needed, and volunteers from many nearby systems with functioning extranet service answered the call, donning the unassuming nametags which designated them as employees.

So it was that, as Javik and Liara chatted with Shepard, Kaidan was required to search more thoroughly than he would have preferred to find an isolated area of the hospital. The biotic Specter was in a glum mood, and as he traversed the sterile white corridors of his temporary residence, hands jammed in his pockets, his outlook grew none the brighter. It seemed that every step took him to the precipice of disaster - clusters of bustling nurses threatened to trample him, service employees pushed carts overladen with innumerable supplies which narrowed his walking space to the point of physical distress, and the anxious, sometimes crying, families of patients milling about served only to intensify his general gloominess.

Kaidan was irritably deciding to abandon his efforts when a room he had not noticed before snared his attention. Glancing about as though he were preparing to commit a crime, he walked over and let himself in, noticing with joint relief and apprehension that the door had soundproofed cushioning lining its floor end.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once they had, Kaidan exhaled gratefully. The room he was looking upon was completely deserted, and its lighting - or lack thereof - seemed perfectly tailored for his present tastes. The only illumination came from a considerable aquarium on the far wall, which hosted beautiful, mesmerizing blue water and a single common jellyfish, pumping its way to and fro with wispy tendrils.

Kaidan closed the door gingerly behind him, praying that he would be left alone. His state of mind bothered him, particularly because he did not understand what had brought it on, and he was sure that he would only solve the mystery with nothing to distract him.

He found his gaze glued to the aquarium. Its shimmering, ambient light soothed him appreciably, lending some needed measure to his thoughts. Kaidan wandered closer, stopping less than a foot away from the exterior glass whose thin shell contained a miniature aquatic world; he did not so much as spare a glance for the two cushiony recliners nearby, which, unbeknownst to him, had seated Liara and Tali not long ago.

The young Vancouver native's eyes grew unfocused as he stared into the aquarium, losing himself in its waters and his own thoughts and memories.

The voice of his mother reached up from the deep, wavering in her sadness but no more than that, for she did not wish to frighten her son - she told him that his father was missing, that she was sure he would turn up, but he knew better because he knew _her_, heard the ill-conceived despair; and then she was gone and he was sitting in the Normandy's bar, checking the Alliance database on his omni-tool, staring blankly at the three simple but mocking letters next to his parents' names: 'MIA,' they cackled, and a helpless rage and frustration settled deep in his gut and he wanted to scream and roar and bellow but he didn't, drowning it all in bland and tasteless alcohol, instead.

Weeks had passed since then, and although those cold and soulless letters next to his parents' names, 'MIA,' had not changed, there was no doubt in Kaidan's mind that they were gone forever, victims of a violent war waged by unfeeling machines convinced of their righteousness. Looking into the tightly sealed eternity of that seemingly out-of-place hospital aquarium, Kaidan's emotions at this acknowledgment were dull but incomprehensible; there was relief, for worrying over the fate of his mother and father had been tearing him up inside, but there was also outrage and vengefulness and sorrow, most of all, for there had always been more to say but now there was no more time to say it.

Abruptly Kaidan turned away from the aquarium and walked briskly to the door, back out into the crowded corridors beyond. He needed some air. Perhaps the cold wetness of London's winter would provide the clarity he needed.

* * *

A chill wind buffetted Tali's slim frame, the power of its blows fluctuating with the lack of rhyme or reason unique to nature. She lay on her back atop one of the hospital roof's multiple ventilation units, staring up into the churning gray sky. It was not raining at that moment, but small droplets of precipitation occasionally ended their daunting descent on the surface of her visor nonetheless, dotting it with tiny shimmering puddles; she made no attempt to wipe them clear, wishing as ever that they were falling upon her cheeks, instead.

In accordance with this desire for tactile sensation, she had tuned her suit's environmental controls down as far as was safely possible, and could resultantly feel some of the day's coldness. She relished it, reflecting sardonically that she bore no small similarity to a red sand addict temporarily sating their craving by settling for one of the several cheap substitutes available.

_It's a start_, she placated herself, smiling at the memory of speaking those very words to Shepard, and the more recent promise it had prompted. She was more certain than ever that one day she would stand on the red soil of Rannoch and feel the air on her flesh, would be rid of the prison on which her life relied, for all the bad things she had ever known, that had ever hurt her, seemed to lose more and more of their sway all the time, and her suit's confinement would surely prove no exception.

She frowned as an image of Shepard, crying, flashed unbidden in her mind, a memory that she knew would stay with her forever, which had altered irrevocably the way she saw him. The change was not a negative one - his tears were brought on by something horrible, something that was haunting him and which would never leave him; she might have been more worried if he had _not_ cried over what had happened, over the decision he'd made. His reaction, long suppressed, showed her that he was still the good man with whom she had become smitten and, later, fallen in love.

But while the change in her perception of Shepard was not altogether negative, she could not call it _good_, either. He had confessed to knowingly sealing the fates of billions of individual geth, the fate of EDI. She understood his rationale - even agreed with it, in the vague and general way of one who does not want to explore their feelings on an issue too deeply - and yet could not determine how she should react, how she was supposed to feel about it.

Was she to feel outraged? Angry with him, for playing god just as the Reapers had? No; had the decision been hers, to save the cycle as a whole by sacrificing a fraction of its population, she could not say with certainty that she would have taken the moral high ground, refusing to play by the Catalyst's rules.

Disappointed, then? That didn't feel right, either. Shepard had fought harder than anyone else, longer than anyone else, for freedom and life in the galaxy, so hard that it sometimes made her feel ready to cry, for that one man should have to shoulder so much seemed monstrously unfair. The decision he had made on the Crucible could not be defined as noble, certainly, but it was quintessentially _human_, quintessentially _alive_ - a man had opted to save his loved ones and millions more, unable to bear the thought of losing _everyone_ when he could save _some_ of them. She could not fathom being disappointed in him for such a thing.

Ultimately only one way forward appeared feasible to Tali, and it was the one that gave her some sense of hope, the one which she had opted for instinctively the night before, the one that let her believe that life could still be happy and fulfilling despite all the heartwrenching changes and losses along the way. She would express her sympathy for Shepard, ensure that he realized she thought no less of him than before, make certain that, when he reached for her, she was there to hold him.

The question, then, the one that still gave her pause, was: where would she have to go, where would she have to follow him, to make that possible?

Tali was barely aware of the nearby door opening, the one which led back into the warm and dry confines of the medical center, as the mighty wind whistled into her auditory emulators. Concealed from sight as she was on her elevated perch, she remained still for a time, hoping in the back of her mind that the newcomer would go away and leave her once more to her thoughts.

Curiosity, inevitably, overcame this reclusive impulse, and she propped herself up on her elbows, turning in the direction of the roof door. There was no one in that line of sight, which offered the grandest view of London's cityscape beyond; the young quarian turned about in every other direction, even toward the corner far opposite, where a cluster of air conditioning and ventilation units formed a metallic labyrinth.

There was no one there.

Tali puzzled over this for a moment, and then shrugged. Whoever it was may well have decided not to brave the unpleasant weather. The only other explanation she could come up with was that someone had been looking for her. This thought process in turn prompted her to realize that she had spent a human-standard half-hour in her solitude on the roof, without having told anyone where she was going, and that her friends could be starting to worry.

It was only as she lowered herself from her makeshift accomodations that she realized there was, in fact, someone else on the roof.

Tali saw him before she could stop her fall from the ventilation unit, rolling toward an imminent collision, for he was sitting down below with his back against the steel surface. "Kaidan!" she yelped in warning. She was not a heavy girl, and so did not worry for his safety - she was more concerned by how he might reflexively react to a warm mass plummeting onto his head. He _was_ a powerful biotic.

Kaidan's face whipped upward, and eyes which had been foggy and contemplative quickly became sharp and alarmed. He made to get out of the way, but like Tali, he had registered the situation too late - the last of Tali's body slipped over the side of the ventilation unit, and she dropped down onto her old friend's torso as he tried vainly to crawl aside.

The two of them remained in a heap for a moment, Kaidan's voice emerged, sounding faint and strained to Tali, likely because a quarian clad in her full environmental suit was reclining on his abdomen. "Are you okay?"

"Mmm," Tali affirmed dumbly, unmoving, and a very familiar warmth flared up on her cheeks. She knew she should probably be getting up, but her combined embarassment and amusement at the situation seemed to be paralyzing her.

Kaidan wheezed, and when he spoke again it was clearer and louder. Tali assumed he had lifted his head and was looking in her direction. "You can get off any time, you know."

Tali giggled ruefully. "Right. Sorry."

It took another moment for the two of them to awkwardly extricate themselves from their unwitting body pile, both wearing faint smiles. Finally Kaidan stood upright, rolling his neck to and fro, stretching his arms out. "Well, Tali, that's one way to drop in one someone."

Tali wrung her hands. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Nah," Kaidan laughed, adjusting his now-wrinkled shirt. "Just surprised me. I thought I was alone." He glanced up at where she had been laying. "How long were you up there?"

"I've been here for half an hour. I just meant to get some fresh air for a few minutes, but then I started thinking, and a few minutes turned into a few _more_ minutes, and, well...you get the idea."

"I see." Kaidan raised an eyebrow slightly. "Guess I'm not the only one looking for some alone time."

He sat back down, reassuming the position he had been in before Tali's interruption. She frowned at him. Now that things had calmed down, the distance of his eyes was obvious. "Is something bothering you?" She paused, and her blush returned. "Not that it's any of my business. I'll let you think in peace - "

Kaidan looked up at her, smiling. "Not so fast. You could have crippled me with that little ninja stunt just now. I _should_ press charges, but you can repay me with your company instead."

Tali blinked at him, and then laughed, relaxing. She settled down next to him, crossing her legs. "How generous of you." Her tone became more serious. "But really, Kaidan, if you want to be alone I understand. I've had plenty to mull over these last few days, too."

"All the more reason for us to have a good talk." Kaidan's eyes remained distant, but a friendly warmth gleamed within as he grinned at her. "I thought I needed to be alone to work through what I'm feeling, but maybe what I really need is a friend to talk to. Maybe we could _both_ use that."

Tali nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe."

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the wind's whispers, watching the clouds muster and brood over London. Kaidan kept his gaze fixed above as he asked, "Were you close to your parents, Tali?"

The quarian blinked at the apparent randomness of the question, but understood that it was likely related to her friend's troubles and took it in stride. "That's - not an easy question to answer." She turned her face to Kaidan. "If you're just asking whether I loved them or not, then the answer is that I did. Beyond that...

"I never really got to know my mother. I get a warm feeling when I think of her, though, so I believe we were close. As for my father?" Tali shook her head and gazed down into her lap. "He only died a couple years ago, and my feelings on him are even less clear now than they were when he was alive. He was a good man, and he was never mean to me, but he was also obsessed with his work. Sometimes it felt I was just a distraction from more important work.

"On the other hand..." she sighed, and laughed shortly, a mirthless sound. "It turns out his motivation for defeating the geth and getting our homeworld back was so_ I_ could have a real home. So he was dedicated to _me_, by dedicating _himself_ to work and letting others take care of me."

She turned to Kaidan. "I loved him, but I guess we weren't really close." Her head tilted to the side. "Why do you ask?"

The biotic's blue eyes considered her, and then he looked back into the sky. "My parents were all I had," he said quietly. "Never really got to know my extended family. No siblings. Just mom, dad and me, living in some dinky little Vancouver apartment." He glanced at Tali. "You'd like Vancouver. City, kind of like London, but not as many people."

She simply nodded, and he continued, breathing out heavily. "A lot of human teenagers start to resent their parents. It's normal. Part of growing up. But man, I _really_ resented my parents." He chuckled. "Resented them like they abused me or something. It was so ridiculous, because they were the sweetest parents a kid could ask for. Attentive. Always willing to listen to my stupid angsty opinions and my petty complaints."

He stared out at the cityscape, but Tali knew his eyes absorbed none of it. "I was awful to them, Tali. For years and years. Ran with a bad bunch. Kept them up late worrying about where I was, what I was getting up to. And then I joined the Alliance. Left them in the dust.

"_That_ whipped me into shape. Helped me see things the way they were, instead of the way I wanted. Started a correspondence with my mom and dad, and of _course_ they were instantly open to it." Kaidan chuckled again. "Typical of them. I was such a little monster, but the thought of giving me a taste of my own medicine never even crossed their minds."

"They sound like very sweet people," Tali said softly.

"They were," Kaidan agreed, nodding and looking down at his hands. When his eyes rose again, they were more focused, but distinctly sad. "But I realized that too late. I grew up too late. They deserved to hear that from me - they deserved to hear me say it, hear me thank them - but they never will. Because... they're gone. I always thought to myself, 'next time,' but now there won't _be_ a next time." He looked back down. "Time ran out."

Tali felt stricken. Her heart ached with its typical, acute attunement to others' emotions, but with a particular strength, for not only was Kaidan a dear friend, but Tali was no stranger to complicated parental relationships. When her father had been discovered to be dead, her greatest regret had been not the demise itself, but the fact that she would never find closure on their relationship, never come to terms with what, exactly, they were to each other.

She placed a hand on Kaidan's shoulder, and spoke in a low voice filled with her sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Kaidan. Was it - well, was it the Reapers?"

Kaidan nodded, a sad smile on his lips. "Yeah. I urged them to get off Earth, but they weren't afraid. Refused to be afraid. Just like they refused to let me push away from them." He looked into Tali's eyes. "I've known this for a while, Tali. Not for a fact - even now, they're only listed as 'MIA' - but I just _knew_. And I guess..." His gaze returned to the sky. "I guess it's just hitting home, now. I tried not to think about it during the war. Tried to keep focused. Didn't want to let the commander down, let any of you down." He laughed softly. "Guess you could call it a delayed grieving process."

"They knew you loved them, Kaidan," Tali said. "Somehow, parents always know. My father used to drive me crazy. I would say the nastiest things, but he never got angry. I thought he was just trying to spite me, but I get it now." She laid a hand on Kaidan's forearm. "He understood. Your parents did, too."

"You're right." Kaidan smiled at her. " Of course you are. Thanks. Nice of you to let me ramble on about my problems like that. I still wish I'd had more time. Guess I always will. That it's normal." His expression warmed. "But things don't look quite as bleak as they did before I talked with you. Guess talking really did help."

"You've been a good friend, Kaidan, and you've saved my life more than a few times." Tali lifted her gloved hand off of the Specter's arm. "And anyway, I like to listen."

Kaidan looked around, at the clouds and the puddles of rain their tears had spawned. "Yeah. Me too. Good day for it. The rain and the wind." He glanced at her. "Your turn, Tali. What were you thinking about before you decided to use me as a trampoline?"

The young quarian stared blankly at him. "'Trampoline?'"

Kaidan laughed. "Never mind. Forget that part."

Still a little confused, Tali drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms about them, making a mental note to search the extranet for the definition of the suspect word. The human reference was not the only thing making her feel lost; while she appreciated Kaidan's willingness to listen, she was still unable to define her own internal dialogue, let alone share it with someone else.

"It's probably silly," she said, looking off far into the horizon. "Just my brain doing what it always does. Looking for problems where they don't exist." She turned to Kaidan. "I was just thinking about...I love Shepard so much. I've never felt like this about anyone before." She paused. "I told my auntie Raan once that I would go anywhere, do anything to be with him, and that's still true. I feel closer to him than ever. It's just..."

"You're thinking about what happens next," Kaidan ventured delicately. "After he recovers."

"Yes." Tali smiled. "That obvious, huh?"

"You're a lot of things, Tali, but being hard to read isn't one of them."

The young woman laughed, and then looked down at her plated knees. "I'm tired of fighting, Kaidan," she said, sounding suddenly tired and vulnerable. "The past three years have been nothing but blood and violence and conflict. I'm ready to settle down, enjoy life. Maybe start a family." She sighed. "And I want to share that with Shepard. But..."

"He's hard to tie down," Kaidan said dryly.

Tali nodded. "I've just been assuming, since I got here, that he would want the same things. But then Hackett visited yesterday. I know he said he was only visiting, but somehow I got the feeling that there was more to it than that. If he asked Shepard to resume active duty when he gets out of here, I'm just not sure..."

Kaidan placed a comforting hand on her back. "This might be simpler than you're making it out to be, Tali. Have you told him how you feel about this? Asked him what he plans to do?"

Tali shook her head and chuckled. "No. I've been too busy imagining nightmare scenarios in my head. I guess that _would_ make sense, wouldn't it?"

Kaidan nodded, smiling. "I've always admired your love for Shepard, Tali. But I've also admired _his _love for you."

Tali turned to him, curious, as he continued. "I've known the commander a little longer than you. He's always been a great guy, but...well, let's just say he was a little _boring_." He chuckled. "He was always a little uptight. Not a bad quality in a soldier, but he seemed afraid to let _go_.

"That changed, more and more, after he met you." Kaidan's smile grew fond in his reminiscence. "I could tell he had a crush on you early on. Mostly because he acted like I did when _I_ got a crush. All the finesse of a drunk krogan. It was funny to see him acting like that. Nice to glimpse a more human side of him. And then, the next time I joined up with him, after you guys destroyed the Collector base?" He shook his head minutely. "Was like a completely different person. Looser, happier. And I knew it was because of you."

Tali could only smile down at her knees. So wrapped up had she been in her own fledgling crush, and then in her own budding love, that it was easy to forget she had not been the only one going through a strange new experience. Her eyes shifted to Kaidan's hand as he planted it atop one knee.

"If two beings were ever meant for each other, it's you and Shepard," he said earnestly. "Try not to worry, Tali. He wants to be with you just as badly as you want to be with him. It'll work out."

Tali smiled gratefully at him, and then giggled, feeling markedly less like London's gray sky than she had minutes earlier. "I had no idea you were such a love guru, Kaidan. Have you ever thought about starting a show on the extranet?"

Kaidan blinked at her.

"It'd be great," Tali said enthusiastically. "You could have guests from all over the galaxy come on and share their relationship problems. You could sit there, looking all spiffy in a a fancy suit, and magically fix everything for them."

Her human friend gaped at her, his lips slowly curling upward until he laughed. "Can't say I've ever thought of that." He crossed his arms. "Not sure I'd want to do this for a living. Helping friends is one thing, but telling some volus how to spice up his sex life? No thanks."

Tali giggled, and stood, offering a hand to Kaidan. He took it, rising up next to her. They began a lazy, unhurried stroll to the door which would take them back into the hospital depths. "You _were_ right, Kaidan. It was nice to let all of that out, hear someone else's perspective. For what it's worth, I'll be taking your advice."

"Anytime, Tali." Kaidan held the door open for her, gesturing theatrically that she should enter first.

Tali obliged with an equally theatric nod of thanks, and then looked over her shoulder as he followed her in. "Do volus even _have_ sex lives?"

Kaidan laughed.

* * *

Zaal'Koris activated his omni-tool for the umpteenth time that morning, scrolling eagerly at its interface until he reached the data stream he was looking for. Shala'Raan, sitting next to him in the cafeteria, watched this with the same weary resignation with which she was becoming well-accustomed, dealing with her longtime colleague on a more personal level than ever before. "Zaal, nothing has changed since you checked thirty seconds ago."

Koris's head twitched toward her, and although she could not see his expression, his indignation was clear enough; it practically rolled off of him in waves. "Raan, you know as well as I that these civilian elections can change dramatically in a _snap_." He clicked two fingers together for emphasis. "And seeing as these are our _first_ representative elections since reclaiming the homeworld, I _fully_ intend to ensure the integrity, efficiency and _comprehensiveness_ of the process, whether I'm halfway across the galaxy or _not_ - "

"_Zaal_," Raan interrupted him, placing a hand on his arm. "It's great that you're so involved in this, but you don't have to make this _your_ responsibility. I'm sure that Han and Xen are keeping an eye on things, not to mention all of your volunteers. It's going to be _fine_."

Koris continued to glare at her for a moment, and then the fire in his eyes extinguished. Relaxing, he turned off his omni-tool. "Forgive me, Raan. I didn't mean to snap at you." He sighed, looking out a nearby window. "One of these days, I'll realize that I can't have a hand in _everything_ that happens among our people." He chuckled. "Then again, maybe I'm a little too old and set in my ways for that."

Raan clasped her hands on the long table before them. "We're only getting better with age, my friend. It's never too late to make a change." She looked loftily up toward the ceiling. "Well, maybe for _you_, but that's just because you're stubborn and cranky."

Koris raised a brow beneath his visor, smiling. For all the years they'd served in the quarian admiralty together, he'd never had much occasion to see Raan in a less formal setting. The last week had warmed his understanding of her considerably. He had always respected her, but he found that he was beginning to quite like her. "'Stubborn' I understand, even _agree_, but 'cranky?' You wound me." He sniffed. "I like to think of myself as the ray of sunshine behind Han's dark cloud."

Raan snorted. "Poetic."

"If I weren't an admiral, I do believe I would have become a wordsmith." Koris glanced up at the clock mounted on the wall, and then got to his feet. "I don't mean to rush, but if you still plan to accompany me tonight we had best get moving."

"Right," Raan conceded reluctantly, pushing aside the nutrient paste she had briefly struggled to ingest before forsaking the effort. The two of them set to walking, instinctively sticking close together in order to take up the least possible space in the corridors, a habit bred of years living in the Migrant Fleet.

As they reached the lobby, crossing it to reach the stairwell, Raan scanned it almost wistfully, catching sight of Miranda and Liara talking quietly near the far window. "It feels like we just got here. I hope Tali doesn't think badly of me for deserting so soon."

"It's not deserting, Raan," Koris assured, looking at her. "You dont _have_ to come with me, you know. I can tell the others that you'll be along later. I'm certain that they would understand."

"No." Raan exhaled, tearing her eyes away from their home of recent days and focusing on the path ahead. The admirals ascended the stairwell leading to the second floor. "I'm glad that we tagged along. Tali needed support, I think. But leaving the colony behind like that was one of the more irresponsible things I've done during my career. It's time I got back to work."

Koris nodded understandingly. "Good," he said lightly. "Because I'm not sure I would much enjoy traveling back to Rannoch on the _Kalros_ with no one but that dreadful Jorgal Finn for company."

Raan laughed. "Just don't get him angry. Ancestors forbid we offend him. Having me around won't be much help to you then."

"Noted," Koris said dryly, and opened the door to Shepard's room.

* * *

The get-well card on Shepard's bedside table, delivered by Vega not long ago, no longer seemed quite as intimidating as it once had, and the commander was fairly sure that it was not just because the overhead lights in his room were finally working properly.

He sat propped up in his bed, back against the headboard, and after a period of thoughtful appraisal he took the card into one hand and read it slowly, thoroughly, taking in all the names inscribed, with their wildly varying neatness and legibility. The majority of the signatures were human, which stood to reason considering Vega's Alliance posting, but there was a fair representation of alien well-wishers as well; several turian names graced the page, as well as salarian, krogan (including one, apparently female, making herself available to 'create young new hero-warriors' with him), and even a couple batarians, much to his surprise.

Shepard felt a grin on his lips as he let his hands, still holding the card, fall into his lap. The salutations and gratitude of the galactic neighbors for whom he'd spent years fighting had been unwelcome not long ago, but now, after Tali had helped him to see the confoundingly obvious truth, after she had helped him come to terms with what was and would always be, they brought him warmth, and heartened him.

_People, living, breathing people, signed this card while they were rebuilding homes and schools and hospitals_.

The Reapers had not succeeded. They had not harvested another cycle. They were gone, but the civilizations they had sought to destroy were not.

Shepard's grin widened as the truth settled, there in the silence and warmth of his quarters. For all the bad that had happened, there was so much good, and just as he would not forget the monstrous, unjust price paid to earn it, he would not forget that good, either, as he and his friends moved into a new life, regardless of where it took them.

He was lifting the card again, intent on reading its messages in more detail, when his door opened. He looked up, heartbeat skyrocketing - Bont had been in only minutes before, and had made a rather foreboding comment about how unrefined his digestive sustem was, and how he might as well remove it, before sauntering off - but was relieved to see two decidedly less grumpy visitors framed in the doorway.

Relieved as he was that they were not Bont, Shepard was still surprised as his brain registered who they actually were. "Admirals," he hailed, observing as they closed the door behind them and walked closer to the bed.

"Commander Shepard, you look _wonderful_," admiral Raan gushed, and before he could so much as open his mouth she swooped in, wrapping him in a hug. "Ooh, Tali _said_ you were getting better, but I had no idea how _quickly_ you were recovering - you'll be up and sweeping her off her feet in no time - "

In a curious role reversal, Koris reigned her in, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently pulling her back off of the pleasantly confused commander. "Come now, Raan, let's keep in mind what they told us about taking things slow." He turned his eyes to Shepard. "Hello, commander. It's been some time."

"It has, admiral Koris," Shepard agreed, extending a hand. The quarian cheerfully obliged, shaking it with barely suppressed enthusiasm; Shepard then offerd it to Raan, who accepted it more sheepishly.

"Sorry, commander," she said, rubbing her upper arm with an awkwardness charmingly similar to Tali's. "You mean a lot to Tali, and _that_ means a lot to me. I got overexcited." Her hand fell to her side. "But you _are_ looking well."

"It's not a problem," Shepard chuckled, ignoring the fact that her hug had left his torso throbbing. "I'm just glad to see you two. And you don't have to be nice." He ran a hand along the back of his head. "I know I look like crap."

Koris crossed one arm across his chest and cradled the opposite elbow in his palm, fingers resting near his chin area. "Considering what you've endured, Shepard, you truly do look to be in remarkable shape. But then, I suppose you've mastered the ability to conceal pain - how are you really feeling?"

Shepard crossed his own arms, reflecting that he was rapidly becoming weary of that particular question. "Not bad. Every day I don't slip into a coma or something, I count as a good sign." He shot a dirty look in the general direction of his mattress. "Getting tired of laying here, though."

"I would imagine so, for a man as active as you," Koris replied. He looked to Raan, indicating the bedside chair. She nodded and moved toward it, but paused before sitting, cocking her head to the side.

"Is this where Tali has been sleeping?" She asked, sounding both incredulous and impressed.

"Yeah. Well - usually." This last word trailed off lamely. Shepard glanced again at his bed, this time uncomfortably; he liked Raan and Koris, but wasn't sure that intimate details about his and Tali's sleeping arrangements were something they wanted or needed to hear.

Raan gazed at him, and then turned to Koris. "She took a flying junk heap to get here, and now she's sleeping in a _chair_ just to be with him." Her eyes returned to Shepard as she lowered herself into the seat. "Commander, are you aware that Tali'Zorah is madly in love with you?"

Shepard laughed easily. "I've gotten that impression once or twice, yeah. Good thing, too, because I kind of have a thing for her."

As though summoned by their words, Tali chose that moment to burst into the room with the grace of a rampaging elcor, swinging the door wide open and stumbling in half-backwards, arms laden with an intimidating array of med containers and a beaker of what looked suspiciously like nostril secretions. She blinked at her fellow admirals dumbly for a moment, and then appeared to get a hold of herself, bustling toward Shepard's bedside table and dumping her payload on it. "Koris - Auntie Raan! I didn't know you were visiting up here today."

Raan rose partially from the bedside chair, embracing her young friend. Koris piped up as they pulled apart. "Yes, well, it was a rather sudden development." He clasped his hands over his stomach. "You see, Tali, commander, admiral Raan and I will be returning to the homeworld this evening. To Rannoch."

Tali gaped at him and Raan in turn. "But you just got here! Did something happen? Is the colony okay - "

Raan, securely positioned in the chair once more, reached out and squeezed one of Tali's hands. "It's nothing like that, child. It's just time that Zaal and I got back. You don't have to worry about anything."

Koris nodded. "You might remember that before we departed for Earth, I was helping to organize elections for a civilian government. Those elections will be taking place very shortly, and I'd like to be there to see them finished."

Tali looked expectantly down at Raan, who smiled up at her. "I'm glad I came, Tali, and I don't want you to feel guilty about staying. But it's better for me to head back now, with Zaal, than later."

Shepard tore uneasy eyes away from the medical supplies Tali had deposited on his table and watched as she took both of her older friends' hands into hers, looking from one face to the other. "Okay," she said softly. "I understand. Thanks...for keeping me company." She giggled. "And sorry about the whole near-death thing."

Raan and Koris exchanged warm looks, the latter placing his free hand atop hers and chuckling. "It's quite all right. I needed a little excitement anyway, recent armageddon notwithstanding." His eyes fell on Shepard. "And standing here now, I daresay it was all worth it."

Shepard smiled at him, and then up at Tali as she stepped back and settled next to him on the edge of his mattress. "You said you were helping with elections. Are we talking about a new Conclave?"

Koris clasped his hands again, this time behind his back. "Not quite. Before the Morning War, quarian government was not so different from the galaxy's other democracies. Regions elected representatives, who in turn created the governing laws of our people. The Conclave did this, yes, but on a smaller scale and with considerably less reach - after all, the Fleet admirals controlled a great deal of quarian activity. We'll be emulating that older system, which rightfully places power in the hands of the people."

"Which means the Admiralty can finally step back and perform the duties it was meant for," Raan chimed in. "I like to think we've done our best in recent weeks, but military leaders were never meant to control civilian populations."

Tali looked to her. "Are you helping with the elections, too, auntie?"

The older woman shook her head. "No. Koris and his volunteers have that under control. I'm going to focus on zoning and housing." She settled back and crossed one knee over the other. "I will, of course, use my influence to ensure that certain areas are still available for settlement in the near future."

Shepard did not miss the significant look Raan gave Tali, nor the responsive microscopic nod of acknowledgment which seemed somehow uncomfortable, but, unable to determine what it all meant, said nothing. Koris, meanwhile, stepped close, offering an open hand; Shepard blinked at it, and then grasped it with his own.

"Commander, I made a point of coming with young Tali and admiral Raan to thank you on behalf of the entire quarian people."

Shepard suppressed a grimace. Javik's expression of gratitude, and subsequent bow, not long before had made him feel uncomfortable enough - not because of any residual guilt, but more simply because he had always been unable to find a suitable response. He was not sure he could take any more. "Admiral, I appreciate that, but you really don't have to."

"Of course I don't," Koris said breezily. "But I'm going to regardless." He gestured first at himself and then at his fellow admirals. "The three of us stand before you now largely because of your actions. Not only in defeating the Reapers, but in brokering a mutually beneficial peace between ourselves and the geth. Had that war continued, our people would have suffered terrible defeat, and it's very likely the entire civilized galaxy would have followed suit."

"Not just that, but I think you're the first person to ever best Han'Gerrel in an argument," Raan said wryly.

"And there's that, as well," Koris agreed, his smile obvious in his tone. He squeezed Shepard's hand, and then released it. "You will always be welcome on Rannoch, commander Shepard. You are a friend to the quarian people, and will be forevermore."

Shepard, rendered quite literally speechless, not just out of discomfort but a sense of being overwhelmed, could only nod at first before finding his voice. After dwelling for so long on actions which ended badly and inspired regret, it was strange to be faced with the results of decisions which had largely ended well. "Thank you, admiral. The quarians are an amazing, resilient group. That means a lot to me."

Koris's eyes stared at him piercingly, and then the aging admiral chortled. "As someone who has dealt with political maneuvering for a very long time, commander, I believe you are one of few men to ever utter such words genuinely." He turned toward the door, and then paused. "Do stop by and visit sometime, won't you?"

"Without a doubt," Shepard said firmly. Satisfied, Koris wandered over to the door and waited as Raan heaved herself up onto her feet, wrapping Tali in another hug. "I know you're busy taking care of the commander, but take care of yourself, too, child."

"Yes, auntie," Tali mumbled somewhat embarrassedly, returning the embrace tightly and letting go only reluctantly. "Let me know when you get back to Rannoch."

Raan nodded, and then leaned down and hugged Shepard, much more delicately this time than upon her entrance. "And *you*," she said, sounding very loud with her mouthpiece by his ear. "I know you'll keep an eye on my Tali. Rest well, Shepard. I look forward to seeing you in good health again."

"Thank you, Raan," Shepard said quietly, smiling into her visor as she rose back up and walked over to Koris. "Good luck out there."

"With Jorgal Finn at the helm, I'm certain it will be a most eventful journey," Koris said, and before Shepard or Tali could so much as absorb this new information, he and Raan were giving final waves and slipping out the door into the corridor beyond.

Shepard narrowed his eyes, still unsure if he'd heard correctly, and looked up to ask Tali for confirmation. His words caught in his throat as he saw her looming over him with the distasteful-looking new medical compound in one hand and an absurdly voluminous cup in the other.

"Bont asked me to take care of this treatment for him," the love of his life said casually, beginning to pour the compound into the cup. Her eyes caught his, looking the very picture of innocence.

"Open wide."

* * *

It was rare that Jorgal Finn should pass through any area without giving a lasting impression to at least some of those he encountered, and his final trek through Nathan Levitt Medical Center was true to that rule. He stormed through the hallways as though the place had done something to personally offend him, black robe rippling out behind him, powerful feet thomping and capable fists clenched at his sides. He returned the occasional friendly nod or greeting with glares that might have been more appropriately slung at archnemeses rather than well-wishing passerby, distinctively and effectively communicating that he was to be left alone.

Inwardly, however, the representative and leader of the historied clan Jorgal was in high spirits. Change was coming, long-awaited change, change on which Finn had banked his every political maneuver and entire post-unification career; and to his dark glee, it was a change that clan Urdnot and their corrupt cohorts would find most disagreeable.

For now, though, Finn was content to operate in the distasteful circumstances of the present. He had just seen the quarian admirals off, sending them ahead to the _Kalros_ to prep the ship for departure (a decision which had required considerable self-control in order to prevent himself from vomiting - the thought of letting those slimy suit rats lay their paws on a krogan vessel's controls sickened him), and it was time to alert Wrex and his mindless cronies, the tank-bred and the witch doctor, that he was departing. They would likely be just as happy, he knew, if he simply left without saying anything, but such decor was not befitting of a krogan in his position. He would not sully his peoples' pride any more than their supposed 'leader' already had.

Opening the door to the courtyard, Finn was met with a harsh blast of wind. He blinked his sharp reptilian eyes rapidly, keeping his vision clear, and promptly wished he hadn't. He could not contain a silent snarl of disgust as he trudged out onto the grass, listening to the human called Jacob Taylor instructing his fellow krogan and several others in the rules of some ridiculous sport.

"...so tackling _is_ a big part of football, but you're not looking to break anybody's bones," Taylor was saying, speaking in the slow and clearly enunciated manner of one trying to teach a foreign language. He pointed a finger in the direction of Wrex, Grunt and Bont, the latter of whom's bored expression was at odds with the toothy anticipation of the other two. "So _you_ guys are gonna have to watch it. Professional football players _usually_ don't weigh a quarter of a ton."

"That's why alien sports are boring," Wrex commented, grinning, and waved a hand. "Too squishy, all of you. No room for some good old-fashioned roughhousing."

"We 'roughhouse' plenty," Kaidan, standing nearby with Garrus and Javik, retorted lightly. "We just don't look to _cripple_ the other guy when we do it."

"Like I said. Boring."

Garrus rubbed his sharp jaw. "Don't get cocky, Wrex. These humans may be squishy, but you've got a turian to contend with, and I assure you, we take our contact sports _very_ seriously."

Grunt snorted. "That would scare me, if you didn't look like a walking skeleton."

Jacob looked around at the assembled potential football players somewhat doubtfully, likely imagining the endless disasters which they might bring about, but then appeared to push aside any second thoughts and rubbed his hands together. "All right. Let's get this show on the _road_. Let's see, there are seven of us, so..." He looked around, doing a double take as he noticed Finn lurking to the side. "Hey, man, you want in on this?"

Finn glowered at him.

"Right," Jacob said, correctly interpreting the answer as a resounding _no_. He shrugged at the Urdnot krogan. "Well, considering the size of you three, it's probably only fair if the four of us play against you. You cool with that?"

"Three krogan against four aliens?" Wrex shook his head pityingly. "That's not fair to you guys, but it's your funeral."

"Nice," Jacob said, indicating that his newly instated teammates should follow him. Bont and Grunt, in turn, followed Wrex to stand across from them. The krogan doctor grunted irritably. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this. Wasting my time on some frivolous sport when I should be keeping an eye on that moron in the hospital - "

"Figured you could use a little diversion, doc," Wrex said, slapping his back with a force which, while friendly to a krogan, would have snapped a human spine. "You've got nothing to worry about. Tali's taking care of the medicine, remember?"

"That makes me feel so much better," Bont grumbled, but assumed his position nonetheless, crouching across from Javik.

The prothean look up at him. "I, too, am unable to grasp the appeal of this so-called 'sport.' In my cycle, it was recognized that free time could be better-spent furthering our understanding of the empire, studying the various planets and subjects that comprised it."

"You protheans really knew how to have a good time," Garrus remarked sarcastically.

Finn was gripped by a grudging curiosity as the game began, and watched for a while, arms crossed and concealed in the depths of his great sleeves. This 'football,' he decided, bore some vague similarities to the far more noble sports utilized by krogan to test their physical prowess and discipline, although the usage of the ball, or 'pigskin' as the humans repeatedly called it, was of course completely redundant. Was not the clashing of two opposing bodies enough to form a worthwhile competition?

He was shaken out of this idle rumination by motion caught in the corner of his eye. It was Grunt, waving his arms in the air. "Stop, or - time-out, or _whatever_! This is starting to piss me off."

"What's the problem?" Jacob Taylor asked, getting up from the ground and looking confused.

The tank-bred krogan growled and stomped over to Javik, who blinked at him stoically. "_This_ guy's cheating."

"This is a serious claim," Javik said solemnly. "I suppose you are prepared to elaborate?"

"Every time I move, you're there to intercept me!" Grunt cleaved a clawed hand through the air. "Once or twice, I get, but _every time_? What's your game, prothean?"

Garrus, panting lightly, strolled over, hands on his hips and head shaking from side to side as he chuckled. "I think I see what's going on here. Can't believe I didn't think of it before we started. You see, Grunt, Javik here is something of a psychic."

Grunt gaped at him and then at the prothean, who shrugged. "This word is not entirely accurate, but the general implication rings true. I am able to read the intent and emotions that every organic being unconsciously projects." His four eyes roamed from one krogan face to the other. "You krogan in particular have remarkably little control over these broadcasts. I am not even trying to read them, but they are impossible to ignore."

Wrex crossed his arms. "Sounds useful. And completely inappropriate on a football field."

Bont was regarding Javik as a predator might a particularly sumptuous meal. "Extrasensory abilities and a perfectly refined hunter physique. Kalros, would I love to stick a knife in you and split you open."

"I would not advise trying," Javik told him, looking slightly disturbed.

Jacob ran a hand across his sweat-beaded forehead and looked up at the sky. "Well, I think we're out of time, anyway. Gonna get rained out if we stay out here much longer." He glanced at Javik. "Maybe you can just watch, next time."

The prothean shrugged again and wandered off without another word. Kaidan walked up next to Garrus and planted a hand on the turian's shoulder. "That was...interesting. You picked that up quick, Garrus. Might have a future in the big league."

Garrus laughed. "Nice of you to say so. That was just field research, though. Gotta bring the sport back to Palaven and give it a good old-fashioned turian tune-up."

Jacob slung a coat over his shoulder and made to head toward the hospital interior. "This weather ever clears up, we'll get you some more 'field research.' Me? I just wanna watch you eat dirt again, Vakarian."

Garrus trailed after him, brushing himself off, with Kaidan in tow. "Is _that_ what you were doing all those times you planted your face on the ground? Because I don't think your digestive system is built for that..."

The volume of their banter faded as the trio got farther away. Relieved that the despicable display of cross-cultural contamination was over, Finn stomped up to Wrex. The krogan chief released a grunt of displeasure as he noted his approach. "Here to tell me that playing football with the aliens was an affront to krogan honor?"

"I will refrain from such comments this time, Wrex," Finn replied with a smoothness which instantly aroused his nemesis's narrow-eyed suspicion. "I am simply here to inform you that I am departing for Tuchanka tonight. I will, of course, be taking the _Kalros_."

"Will you, now?" Wrex growled.

Finn suppressed a smug grin. "Would you have it any other way? Surely the leader of the Krogan Union recognizes that a state vessel like the _Kalros_ should not sit idle in some Earth port while it could be of use on the homeworld."

Grunt stepped forward, mouth opening, but Wrex held out one arm, stopping him. The chieftain stared long and hard at Finn, his expression unreadable. Just as the diplomat was beginning to squirm under the scrutiny, Wrex gave a single nod. "Okay, Finn. Have it your way. Give my tidings to Bakara when you get there."

Finn watched silently as the red-helmed krogan walked away without another word, his comrades in tow, and a familiar, cold wrath flowed through his veins while he regained his composure. Wrex had made him feel a fool again, naked and vulnerable, just by looking at him. He, Jorgal Finn! Accomplished warrior and vessel of a proud and noble bloodline, rendered defenseless by the same scum that threatened to dismantle everything the krogan stood for.

_No matter_, Finn thought, storing his icy rage in reserve for when it would be most needed, and he allowed himself a small smile as he headed off to begin his journey back to Tuchanka, where great gears were finally in motion.

_Change is coming._


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **I may have taken some minor liberties with canon in a certain segment of this chapter. Thanks for reading/reviewing!

It was not the very pregnant appearance of Jacob Taylor's wife, nor the buzzing activity taking place behind her, that first caught the former Cerberus operative's eye as he opened a vid comm channel with her, the day after the attempted football game in the hospital courtyard; it was, instead, the shadow of fatigue under her eyes, and the terse poise of her body as she looked into her own extranet terminal, situated in the appropriated freighter that served as her home, that not only got his attention, but set him on edge, as well.

Jacob frowned. He knew her well enough to be able to tell when something was bothering her, and such was obviously the case right then. Still, it had been some time since his last conversation with her, and he decided not to launch into an interrogation before they had so much as exchanged greetings. "Hey, Brynn."

The brunette's face, not as pale as it had been several months earlier but not much heartier, either, moved briefly out of view as she lunged to the side, presumably to handle some task or other. When she returned, she blew out a long sigh and mustered a smile. "Hi, Jacob. How are things up there?"

"It's all good, but never mind that right now," Jacob said, leaning closer to the vid recorder capturing his likeness and transmitting it to his wife. "How are _you_ holding up? Look like you're about to fall over."

Brynn's eyes flashed, and Jacob braced himself for a good dressing-down - his scientifically inclined spouse was fiercely independent, and often considered any displays of concern for her well-being to be condescending - but it never came. Her gaze softened, and she laughed shortly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to work myself too hard while I've got a baby on board. But - " she ran a hand through her hair. "Things have become a little hectic around here over the last few days."

Jacob's eyes fell on the activity behind her. The angle of Brynn's vid recorder did not let him catch a glimpse of any faces, but what appeared to be at least a dozen bodies were moving all about, carrying crates, rearranging furniture, and in one case, what looked suspiciously like rifle barrels. "From where I sit, 'hectic' sounds like an understatement. The hell's going on over there, Brynn?"

Brynn blinked, and then glanced over her shoulder as though she'd forgotten he could see past her. She laughed again, helplessly this time, and leaned forward. "Pandorum, that's what. Panic. The newsfeed mentioned the other day that some Cerberus die-hards are picking up the pieces of the organization. Rebuilding." She shook her head. "It's just a rumor, but as you know, everyone here had a Cerberus bounty on their heads not long ago. This has put them a _little_ on edge."

"The Illusive Man _was_ Cerberus," Jacob said after a moment of contemplation. "Especially after he started putting Reaper tech in all of his soldiers. He's gone and he isn't coming back. Neither is Cerberus."

"I know that, Jacob," Brynn told him wearily. "And I've tried telling the others as much, but I don't - " she shook her head again, agitatedly. "I don't have the _presence_ you do. It's hard to make people listen." Her voice softened. "I _know_ you're there for a good reason, but we need you back."

Jacob took a deep breath and fell back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. Time had seemed to stand still, upon hearing that Shepard was alive and then for the first couple of days in the hospital - but it was obvious, now, that it had never really stopped, and that life continued to develop whether he wanted it to or not. For the intelligent and capable Brynn to all but plead for his return was a reminder that his comrades of battles past were not the only ones who needed him - so, too, did the woman, and unborn child, who would form his future. He was determined to _be there_ for them, unlike his own father.

But there was business still to attend to, for he had not voyaged to the hospital in the first place for nothing.

"Sit tight, Brynn," he said as comfortingly as he could, moving closer once more to the vid recorder. "I'm gonna wrap things up here today and head back." He continued as his wife's face brightened slightly. "For now, though, I got something that might put some of those twitchy ex-Cerbs back there at ease."

Brynn blinked at him. "What would that be?"

Jacob's face split into a grin, and he rubbed his hands together. "Got your omni-tool handy? Gonna wanna take notes on this one."

* * *

He found Miranda, after his vid comm was finished, leaning on the wall around the corner from the terminal, arms crossed below her chest. She moved to intercept him as he approached, raising one eyebrow. "So? How'd it go?"

Jacob pursed his lips for a moment, and then kept walking in the direction of the lobby. His former Cerberus colleague and ex-lover followed close behind, heels clicking against the floor. "You heard anything about Cerberus rebuilding?"

Miranda replied with a curt, derisive laugh. "Bullshit. All of the Illusive Man's cronies had Reaper tech implanted in them. They died when the Crucible fired."

"Yeah. 'S'what I figured, too." Jacob stopped, turning to face her. "But Brynn says the newsfeed mentioned that some old die-hards were putting things back together. Just a rumor, but it's got our people on edge."

"Did you tell her - "

"Brynn's not stupid," Jacob cut her off, waving his hand dismissively. "'Course she already realized it was a bunch of bull. The others are fickle, though. You know that. Still in a frenzy, and Brynn doesn't know how to calm 'em down."

Miranda planted her hands on her hips. "Good time to bring up my offer."

Jacob nodded and resumed walking. "Right. So I did."

Miranda stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. "_And_?"

Jacob chuckled and sidestepped her. "She liked it. Said she'd talk to the others, hoped it might give 'em something to cling to." He shot a sidelong glance at Miranda. "Although she still has a weird thing about _you_. Doesn't trust you. Made me promise to keep an eye on you if we go through with it."

Miranda looked surprised. "Me? What did I do?"

"Don't gimme that," Jacob laughed. "It's fine. She's just worried because of how close you were to the Illusive Man." He poked himself in the chest with a thumb. "_I_ think it's really because she's jealous. She knows you and me had a thing way back. Doesn't want you stealing her man."

Miranda snorted. "Well, _that_ problem should solve itself. As soon as she sees how you and I get along, she'll realize I'm absolutely no threat to her." She turned to Jacob, expression turning more serious. "I'll earn her trust, Jacob. Just please try to make this happen. It's time these people learned that they need to stop hiding. Their talents could help a lot of people. Alliance reconstruction projects are a good place to start."

"Don't need to tell _me_ twice," Jacob assured her, raising one hand. "It'll be easier to convince them once we get there. We still good for leaving today?"

"As soon as we visit Shepard and tell everyone else that we're going," Miranda nodded. "We owe them that much, at least. Could be a while before we see any of them again."

"Yeah," Jacob said, staring wistfully into space. "Shame. Really wanted to see Garrus fumble around playing football again."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Jacob, but I watched you guys play for a while yesterday, and Garrus was _not_ the one fumbling around." Miranda rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I seem to recall a certain former Corsair tripping and falling face-first into a krogan's qua - "

"Oh hey, look, a credit chit," Jacob said loudly, and darted off ahead of her before she could finish, anxious not to relive the memory she was about to evoke.

He could _not_, however, repress the mental image of the triumphant smirk that he knew was sitting on his old friend's shapely lips.

It was not for lack of effort.

* * *

Garrus had often considered it frustrating that his human friends could not read all but his most exaggerated facial expressions - it was a barrier that ruined many a joke - but as one of the hospital's eternally disgruntled-looking cafeteria workers slapped a ladleful of mysterious goo onto his breakfast platter, he found himself thanking the Spirits that the disgust on his face was undecipherable.

Appalled or not, he had no intent of being rude, and he gave the skinny human man on the other side of the counter a nod. "Thanks."

The man gawked at him as though he'd just uttered some outlandish prediction about the origins of life in the galaxy. Garrus held out on hope for a few seconds that he might receive a reply, and then gave up, sidling off with his unappealing victuals and making for one of the several available dining tables, where Kaidan, Tali, Wrex and Grunt were all sampling their own breakfasts with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

The krogan were chewing away merrily - Wrex even had a second tray whose contents awaited their doom - while Kaidan ate with the air of one simply trying to avoid starvation. Tali's meal consisted of what looked like a smoothie, straw inserted into its purplish-gray depths, and judging from her lack of progress, Garrus could only assume it was not something she would recommend to others.

Now even less enthusiastic about eating than he had been already, he took a seat next to his quarian friend and across the table from Wrex. "Another gourmet meal brought to you by Nathan Levitt Medical Center."

Kaidan stared glumly into the yellowy contents of what had, presumably, once been an egg. "I used to think Huerta Memorial on the Citadel had _bad_ food, as hospitals went. Never thought I'd miss that place."

Wrex paused in his industrious foodstuffs massacre to trade a knowing look with Grunt. Catching this, Garrus thrust his plastic fork accusingly in their direction. "What's that smug look all about?"

"You guys are like a bunch of spoiled hatchlings," Wrex answered around a mouthful of unfortunate vegetables. "Try spending a month eating on Tuchanka and get back to me about bad food."

"Your opinion doesn't count for crap until you've tried irradiated varren liver," Grunt agreed, snickering.

Tali froze in her renewed effort to ingest some nutrients and pushed her cup away. "And there goes my appetite."

Kaidan lifted his beverage cup and tried a feeble smile. "At least they can't mess up a good soda."

Garrus was not entirely surprised when, one tentative sip later, his biotic comrade was grimacing and spitting into a napkin. "Or _can_ they?"

"_That's _amazing," Kaidan declared, setting the cup down and holding both hands up in surrender. "I mean, that is a _real_ accomplishment. This place is nothing if not consistent."

Equally consistent, apparently, was Wrex's disregard for the others' opinions. The krogan snatched the soda and drained it in one gulp before slamming the cup back down with a punctuating _thud_. "It's cold and it's wet," he reasoned, before tucking back in to his meal.

Tali watched this, arms folded atop the table surface. "Is that your _official_ review?"

Kaidan rested his cheek on one upheld fist, smiling. "Well, if nothing else, we've got good company."

"The best," Garrus seconded, pushing his own tray toward the krogan. Grunt snatched it before his chieftain did, releasing a bizarre growl-laugh of victory. "But somehow, the thought of being with people I _like_ when I starve to death doesn't comfort me all that much."

"We _have_ been through a lot, haven't we?" Tali asked quietly. "The last few years...it's hard to believe."

A contemplative silence descended on the group of friends. Even the krogan slowed in their ravenous dining, reflecting as the others were on the curious sequence of events which had led them to that moment - the harrowing battles, the tragic losses, the exuberant successes; but most of all they thought about the friendships formed, based on the kind of rare camaradie that would last a lifetime, through the years and across star systems.

"Look at us now," Wrex said, fangs gleaming in a wide grin. "We were a bunch of dumb kids when we started, fighting Reapers and the dumbasses that got in our way. Now we're old fogey war vets sitting in some hospital and complaining about the food."

Tali giggled. "Wrex, I'm barely in my twenties."

"He's right, though," Garrus said good-naturedly. "You've come a long way. When we met, you didn't know a damn thing beyond what the Migrant Fleet could teach you, and you were the twitchiest little thing I'd ever seen." He crossed his arms. "Now you're a shotgun-slinging quarian admiral with a killcount in the hundreds and a badass human boyfriend. How's _that_ for a cool biography?"

Tali's blush was almost visible through her visor. "Okay, but I'm not the only one! How about _you_, Mr. Archangel, hmm?"

Garrus shook his head and waved his hands from side to side. "No, no, don't try to turn this around - "

"What was it Joker called you once?" Kaidan wondered out loud, looking up to the ceiling. "A 'turian with a stick up his ass,' if I remember right." He looked to Garrus, grinning. "Of course, that was before you turned into Omega's very own super-vigilante and developed - dare I say it - a _sense of humor_."

"Kind of like how _you_ went from a know-nothing Alliance boyscout to an officer-slash-Specter?" Garrus shot back. "And anyway, I've always had a sense of humor. You aliens just couldn't tell a good turian joke if it slapped you in the face." He sighed dramatically. "I took the high road and simplified things for you, is all."

"And I've still met thresher maws with better delivery than you," Wrex said, voice muffled by the food in his mouth, and bumped fists with Grunt as the tank-bred extended his, guffawing.

"Then there's Wrex," Garrus said dryly, drawing chuckles from Tali and Kaidan. "The gun-for-hire that became leader of the krogan people and - well, come to think of it, that's about the only change I can come up with." He looked around at the others. "Anyone? Help me out here."

"He's still the violent loudmouth with a heart of gold that we all know and love," Kaidan said with a teasing grin.

"Now he just pretends to be respectable," Tali added.

Grunt turned to Wrex, lips turned upward in an irrespressible smile. "These softskins are slandering your good name, boss. Want me to rough 'em up?"

"Hold up on that one, Grunt," Garrus said, holding up his hands and glancing at Tali. "Doesn't he look an awful lot like that krogan Shepard pulled out of a scrapyard?"

Tali caught on quickly, and gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "There _is_ a resemblance." Her nod transitioned into a shake of her head. "But it can't be the same guy. I actually _like_ this Grunt. The one that came out of the tank a couple years ago was an asshole."

"_You_ try starting life as a full-grown adult filled with aimless rage and violence, and see how charming _you_ are," Grunt retorted, but he was beaming at her.

The friends all smiled wordlessly for a moment, looking from one face to the other and basking in the same comfort that they had become accustomed to feeling around each other, a warm sense of belonging which, they knew, would never fade.

And then Garrus, glancing casually at the trays of food still on the table, broke the silence. "So, any bets on which of these fine gentlemen finish eating first?"

The wagers were lighthearted, but the ensuing eating competition was imbibed with the energy that only krogan could bring, and the skinny man behind the food counter was given something much more interesting to gawk at than a polite turian.

* * *

Although commander Shepard felt more at ease, with circumstances and with himself, than he had for the lifetime since awakening in London's rubble, one obstacle still remained, one persistent mental contest that saw him swaying wildly from one thought process to the other and denied him full closure until it was laid to rest.

_Very few men have managed that juggling act successfully_

The decision of whether to accept Alliance command's offer of admiralty, or to refuse it and focus on more personal matters, had taken on new dimensions since the day of Hackett's visit. Then, he had doubted his worthiness in committing to Tali, fearing that his guilt and bitterness would drive them apart - but such a thing sounded like madness to Shepard now, after the way she had supported and comforted him after sharing his terrible burden.

He remembered the moment of miraculously clear understanding he'd had the other night, how he had realized that his survival was thanks entirely to the quarian woman he loved, that he had endured the pain of living just to be with _her_ again. Validation for that hope had been provided some time ago, merely in the initial reunion with Tali, but now it had been vindicated beyond doubt. _She_ was committed to _him_, with an unconditional love which had proven the only possible medicine for his woes; so was it not obvious what came next? Was his desire to serve the greater good really stronger than his desire to keep the most important promise he'd ever made?

Shepard exhaled heavily through his nose and glanced down at the tube Urdnot Bont was pulling out of his wrist. "So this leaves me on, what, two chemical treatments?"

The krogan doctor grunted his affirmation, never taking his eyes, veiled as always behind their blue holographic visor, off of the task at hand.

Shepard looked around the room desperately as the same awkward silence which always accompanied Bont's visits descended on them, seeking something, anything, to inspire conversation. He was not a man averse to silence, but it vaguely perturbed him to have a medical caretaker who never said anything. "What, uh...what was that yellowish stuff Tali started me on yesterday?"

Bont's head snapped up. "Oh, that reminds me," he said, and then proceeded to deliver a swift judo-chop to Shepard's exposed neck.

After recovering from the ensuing moment of coughing and sputtering, the commander stared indignantly at his assailant. "What the hell was that?"

Bont did not lift his eyes from his glowing omni-tool, into which he was keying in data with an expertly rapid pace. "Varren saliva extract," he said, ostensibly in response to his earlier query. "Supposed to build up pain resistance. The goal is to bring you back to a normal threshold. Have to stimulate the neck to - " He stopped, brow furrowing, and looked up at Shepard. "Oh, wait, that's for salarians. Hold on."

Shepard did not have time to react as Bont's hand snapped out again, this time jabbing the center of his chest and earning another surprised yelp.

Satisfied, the purported hero of the Aru Plague gave a curt nod and resumed data input on his omni-tool. "Good."

Shepard could only glower at him as Bont moved to his bedside table and began to sift through his pills, squinting into their containers. "I don't know if it's the implants Cerberus stuffed in you, or if you're just as resilient as Wrex and the others say, but you're on track to a nearly full recovery by the end of the month." He tapped some pills into his scaly palm and sniffed at them. "By 'nearly,' I mean you're going to have a minor limp for six to twelve Earth months, so no more - "

"Firefights with punks in merc armor, yeah, I get it," Shepard interrupted rather irritably, nursing his sore neck.

Bont regarded him with what looked suspiciously like a smile, and then set his pills back down, heading for the door. "I'm going to start you on a simple physical therapy routine next week, so conserve your energy."

The door swung open before the krogan's claws reached the handle, and a new voice joined the conversation. "Physical therapy, huh? I'm no doctor, but that sounds good to me."

Shepard grinned as Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson strolled into the room, sidling around the unmoving Bont, who watched them with the same suspicion a store-owner might a potential thief. "Jacob! Miranda!"

The former gave him a wave, and the latter a smiling nod. Jacob turned to Bont and extended a hand. "Everyone kept saying you were taking good care of our boy Shepard, but physical therapy this soon? You must be some kind of _whiz_."

Bont stared at his proffered hand, and then stalked off into the hospital corridors, muttering something about revolving doors and redundant pleasantries until the door swinging shut cut him off. Jacob blinked, but recovered quickly and walked to Shepard's bed, beside which Miranda was already standing. "Man, you're gonna be walking around the hospital giving orders again soon, at this rate."

Shepard laughed and shook his hand. "Well, I dunno about the 'giving orders' part, but hopefully I _will_ be walking around."

Miranda settled down on the foot of his bed, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I'm sure you're sick of hearing this, Shepard, but you look good."

"Thanks, Miranda." Shepard nodded at her and at Jacob. "So do you guys. Thanks for stopping by."

"We've been here since the beginning," Jacob explained, assuming Tali's bedside chair. "Sure as hell weren't gonna leave without seeing you."

Shepard arched his brow. "Leaving, huh? Where you guys headed off to?"

Jacob and Miranda glanced at each other. The former head of the Lazarus Project took the initiative, clasping her hands in her lap. "Well - remember when Admiral Hackett stopped by the other day?"

Shepard nodded, and she continued. "He spoke to me once his business with you was concluded. The Alliance is in need of people, particularly with command experience, and...well, I have it."

Shepard crossed his arms narrowed his eyes lightly at her. "Don't tell me _you're_ joining the _Alliance_, Miranda?"

"Not _joining_ it, exactly," she explained hastily, blushing a little - a rare sight indeed. "I would just be put in charge of some people and resources with Alliance sanction. I wouldn't be taking orders from anyone but Hackett, or be part of the actual system at all."

Shepard's teasingly skeptical expression melted into a broad grin. "I can't imagine anyone better qualified. You'll do great, Miranda."

She smiled, too, her entire face brightening vibrantly. Shepard turned to Jacob. "What about you, mister Taylor? How's Brynn doing?"

Jacob rubbed at his nose. "She's the same super-woman you met way back. Got plenty on her plate, _plus_ the pregnancy, but she's still chugging along." His eyes flitted to Miranda again, a rueful smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "And, uh...still trying to talk her out of naming the kid 'Shepard.' You understand."

"Definitely," Shepard chortled. "Having Wrex name some of his kids after me is bad enough. We need to contain this before it gets out of hand."

"I feel that," Jacob laughed. He shifted in the chair. "Krogan babies named 'Shepard.' How's that for surreal?"

"Not just that," Miranda said slyly. "From what Wrex tells me, they're incorporating 'Shepard' into their language to mean 'hero.'"

Shepard looked aghast. "I thought he was joking about that."

Jacob laughed again, and Miranda shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint. If it makes you feel any better, they're adding 'Mordin,' too, though I'm not sure what it'll mean."

Shepard shook his head helplessly and returned his gaze to Jacob, who indicated Miranda with one hand. "Anyway, I'm trying to convince Brynn and the others to join up with Miranda. She could use our help, and _we_ need something to keep us busy."

Shepard scratched his jaw. "Who are these 'others'?'"

"Oh, yeah. Remember the ex-Cerberus scientists you helped rescue when we met up during the Reaper war? Most of them are still sticking with Brynn and me. Think they're scared to move on, especially now with these rumors that Cerberus is putting itself back together." Jacob shook his head. "We're gonna have enough on our minds taking care of _one_ baby. We don't need these guys, too. Hopefully, working on Alliance reconstruction for a while will bring them back to reality."

An image of the Illusive Man in his final moments, blue eyes glowing in the darkness of the Citadel, flashed through Shepard's mind. "Cerberus, huh? There's something I haven't thought much about lately."

"It's all nonsense," Miranda assured him. "Everyone still in Cerberus at the end of the war had Reaper tech in them. Thanks to the Crucible, we don't have to worry about them anymore."

Shepard nodded, feeling briefly and strongly grateful that Cerberus had not implanted any such technology in him during his resurrection. "Right. Well, considering all the damage there is to repair, working with the Alliance for a while should defintely be enough to take those scientists' minds off of Cerberus."

"That's the hope," Jacob said. "'Course, we gotta convince them first. That's why we're heading out today. Gonna meet them in person and give the best damn sales pitch of our lives."

Shepard smiled warmly at him. "You'll do fine, Jacob," he said quietly. "With everything. You're going to be a helluva dad."

Jacob's eyes met his for a moment, expression vulnerable, and then he, too, smiled as he rose to his feet. "Thanks, Shepard. I promise you this, I am _not_ gonna be another Ronald Taylor."

"I know," Shepard said simply, saluting with one hand. Jacob reciprocated, and then looked to Miranda as she stood and leaned down, giving the commander a quick hug.

"You've done a lot for me, Shepard," she said, straightening. "I thought I had it all figured out when I met you, but I didn't. You helped me to realize who my true friends are." She smiled. "I'm happy that you're one of them."

Shepard scratched the back of his neck, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "You're a good person, Miranda. You always have been. I just did what was right." He lowered his hand. "How's Oriana? Is everything set with her?"

"Yes." Miranda nodded, her smile becoming fond at the thought of her sister. "There's nothing more for her to worry about. Well, besides the normal teenage girl stuff." She giggled, a sound which, Shepard reflected, he had not heard enough of during his friendship with her. "She can live her life now, Shepard. And I'm going to live mine."

"You've earned that much," Shepard said earnestly, eye flashing. "And so has she."

Miranda's eyes roamed his face, and then she turned to Jacob. Taking this as his cue, the former Cerberus lieutenant took a couple steps toward the door. "Expect to hear from me, Shepard. Like, alot. Gonna keep in touch."

"I'll hold you to that," Shepard said, pointing a finger at him, and then he swung it toward Miranda. "You, too. I want to hear all about the life of Miranda Lawson."

She closed her hands around his for a moment. "Okay. You've got it." One hand patted his, and then she withdrew both and followed Jacob to the door. "Take care, Shepard."

Commander Shepard watched them until the door closed them from his view, and then shook his head, laughing quietly to himself, as he thought back on the bizarre twists and turns which had led him to befriend a high-ranking Cerberus operative and her security officer.

And while those twists and turns had not all been pleasant, he would not have had it any other way.

* * *

With Jacob and Miranda's departure, the number of Shepard's friends residing in the hospital dwindled ever more, making it no surprise when Liara and Javik found themselves the only occupants of the lobby that evening. Having seen their ex-Cerberus friends off not long before, the two of them decided to take advantage of the quiet by making some headway on the book which Liara had proposed co-authoring during the early stages of their acquaintance, long before either being learned to see the other in a remotely affectionate light.

The contrast between those early interactions and those of the modern day were in full display presently. The last prothean and his asari lover sat in close proximity, lobby chairs pulled together, their bodies brushing lightly against one another. This was, for them, only supplementary to the perpetual link of minds they enjoyed; by that point, neither could have possibly hoped to hide their emotions from the other, even if they had wanted to - and, happily, they did not.

Liara flexed her fingers as though readying herself for some grand athletic endeavor, her blue eyes lent an ethereal glow by the datapad on her lap. "I can't even begin to describe how much I've been looking forward to continuing this book. The wealth of information that we're going to provide to the galaxy is just - amazing."

"You do not have to describe it," Javik reminded her. "Your anticipation sits on the air like moisture on a humid summer's eve."

Liara blinked at him. "Javik, that was beautiful."

"And accurate. If you do not harness your excitement, I may be inclined to sedate you, for your own good."

Liara tilted her head to one side and smiled, feeling the light-heartedness of his comments even as he felt her anticipation. "Okay. Maybe if you start by telling me about something nice and dry - say, a basic history of prothean government - it'll calm me down a little."

"Which prothean government?" Javik asked blankly. "For there were many. The imperial regime which dominated this galaxy in my cycle was only the last iteration, with perhaps dozens preceding it."

"'Dozens'?" Liara echoed incredulously, her mouth forming an 'o' of surprise.

"Yes. This surprises you?"

"Well - _yes_," Liara admitted, beginning to tap notes into her datapad. "From the way you've always described it, I just assumed that the prothean empire was singularly stable, ruling with an iron fist."

Javik nodded. "It did that, yes. The other races of the empire were heavily oppressed. This, you understand, was largely a reaction to the revolution which supplanted the previous regime, a democratic republic that grew corrupt and devious." The prothean rolled his shoulders. "It was at that point that my people realized they could not maintain leadership of such a diverse galaxy, nor crush the insidious artificial intelligences that sought to destroy us even before the Reapers, without the heft of imperialism."

"And how many governments came before the republic?"

"The republic endured for nearly a millenia, and it was the first galactic prothean regime," Javik explained. "Before that, an interstellar monarchy which grew progressively into that republic marked the early stages of our dominance. And earlier still, a unified government ruled over the entire prothean homeworld, one born through years of war between individual nations."

Liara shook her head slowly, face glowing with the kind of scholarly enthusiasm that Javik was beginning to recognize as one of her most admirable features. "Remarkable. Hundreds of years of thorough archaeological surveys, and we _still_ had prothean history all wrong - were _still_ basing too many of our theories on how we _wanted_ to see your people." Her eyes twinkled as she looked up into Javik's face. "Do you know whose history bears an uncanny resemblance to yours?"

Javik's four eyes squinted thoughtfully. "Certainly no race from this cycle. No modern civilization has yet exercised its might to unify the galaxy under its rule."

Liara waved her hand dismissively. "Regardless of that." She made a few swipes at her datapad and then placed it on Javik's lap. "That's a basic timeline of human history. Look - they have a lot of the same transitions that the protheans did. Democracies became corrupt, turned into dictatorships, and then revolution would always bring back democratic freedoms until corruption set in, and the cycle repeated itself." The asari jumped to her feet and began to pace back and forth in front of her one-man audience, hands gesticulating spiritedly. "Until now, that kind of relative instability has been _unique_ to humanity. Every other race in this galaxy has enjoyed stable government of one kind or other for thousands of years, even while humanity's monarchies and empires decayed and turned into democracies - and even _before_ the asari, or turian, or salarian, or even_ krogan_ governments solidified, there were still far fewer shakeups than humanity."

She stopped abruptly, whirling to face Javik, who was browsing the datapad's contents with mild interest. "We always just assumed that the protheans were like the majority of _this_ cycle's races, but as it turns out, your closest resemblance is to the most unique and diverse species we've ever known. To humanity."

Now it was Javik's turn to shake his head disbelievingly. "I would not have believed it before, but you are correct. This human history is eerily reminiscent of ours, of prothean history." He placed the datapad aside, onto Liara's vacant chair, and leaned back, crossing his arms. "I would advise your asari government to be wary, Liara. Judging from these historical similarities, and from the grit of human warriors like the commander, I would not be surprised if they follow in our footsteps even more closely. A human version of the Cosmic Imperative may well be born one day."

Liara threw herself back into her chair with alarming enthusiasm, picking up her datapad and nodding. "It's certainly possible. Goddess, it's all just so _fascinating_, isn't it? The things you've told me today have opened up countless new fields of study. I've _always_ been interested in the development of humanity - it's been so rapid and unpredictable - but considering these new revelations, I'll have to keep an even closer eye on them in the coming centuries - "

Javik's watched her with a smile for a moment, and then, straightening his expression, snatched the datapad from her fingers. This elicited a reflexive squeal of dismay from the asari, who reached to take it back, only for Javik to save her progress with a deft flick of his hand and shove the device into a storage compartment of his armor. "I warned you, Liara. Your excitement has become unmanageable."

Liara rolled her eyes. "You're not going to sedate me, Javik."

"True." The prothean stood and stared down at her, offering a hand. "But I fear that if I share much more with you this day, I might break something. Come. We will dine. There will be more time for history lessons later." He smiled. "If I do not ration them sparingly enough, I risk losing your interest."

Liara considered him for a few seconds, and then arched an eyebrow, blue lips turning up into a grin. She took his hand and, as she rose, wrapped both arms around one of his, clinging to him as they began to walk. "Smart move, Javik. But you're dreaming if you think I'd let you go that easily. My love is a _little_ more stable than prothean civilization was."

The prothean's deep, warm laugh echoed in the quiet hospital corridors.

* * *

Tali's stomach growled loudly as she reached out to open the door to Shepard's room, and she frowned down in its direction. Pleasant mealtime company was all well and good, but could only compensate so much for a lack of actual food. The young quarian was by no means unaccustomed to enduring stretches of time without being able to fill her belly to satisfaction, but still looked forward to leaving the medical facility and getting her hands on something decent to eat.

She took a deep breath, her fingers curling around the doorhandle, focusing herself. Every ounce of her being screamed out that she could delay no longer, for her sake and for Shepard's. The unresolved question had to be resolved; the remaining tension between them, lingering even after he had exposed his deepest wound to her, had to be addressed.

Tali entered the room with a steely resolve not dissimilar to that of a soldier breaching a hostile base, only to be left blinking and feeling a little foolish by the scene that greeted her. Shepard was sitting upright in his bed, a familiar black N7 hoodie draped over his shoulders, and in his lap sat a luggage bag with Alliance insignia on the sides. It was opened, and Tali caught a glimpse of several objects that struck her as familiar, including a panel of medals which, if she was not mistaken, had once sat on the desk in Shepard's cabin on the Normandy.

Most striking of all, though, was the small portrait that Shepard held in his hands while he gazed pensively down at it. Even from a distance, Tali could vaguely discern what it was - the picture of herself, captured on Rannoch shortly after its quarian reclamation, entrusted to Shepard as a token of her love and trust.

She made her way over to him somewhat dreamily; the sight of such things threatened to transport her back through time, back to those days on the Normandy, harrowing and yet somehow so comforting, surrounded by friends and heroes. "Is that what I think it is?"

Shepard smiled quickly up at her and then turned his eyes back to the portrait, holding it out toward her. "If you think it's a picture of the most beautiful woman in the galaxy, then yes, it is."

Tali wrung her hands before accepting the small framed image. She stared at it for a moment, and then giggled ruefully, giving it back to Shepard. "Keelah, I completely forgot about that thing. It's such an awkward picture - I can't believe I even took it - "

"'Awkward?'" Shepard scrunched his brow, gazing at her with eyes that refused to let her look away. "Don't put yourself down like that, Tali. Especially not for this. You look as stunning in this picture as you always do, and I cherish it like I cherish you."

Tali blushed and fidgeted with her fingers. How was she supposed to interrogate him if he kept talking like that? "Right. I mean - thanks. I - uhm - " She turned her glowing eyes to the bag on Shepard's lap. "What's in there?"

To her combined dismay and happiness, Shepard delicately placed her portrait on the center of his bedside table before responding, opening the bag further. "Care package from the Normandy, courtesy of its obnoxious pilot."

Tali gaped. "Joker?"

Shepard nodded, grinning. "Yeah. Some nurse delivered it earlier today, but apparently it's been sitting in the mail room almost since I got here." He rummaged through the bag's depths, pulling out a small container of exotic fish foods. "Pretty much all of my belongings from the captain's quarters. Plus...this."

Tali watched as he pulled out a datapad and handed it to her, still speaking. "A nice little message. Well, two-thirds of it is just bad jokes, but that's to be expected." Shepard chuckled.

"Looks like he's keeping busy," Tali said, eyes scanning from side to side as she read Joker's note. "Still flying the Normandy all over the place. And - wow, it says here that Hackett used it as his command ship for a week?"

"Apparently," Shepard nodded.

"'As soon as I get back to Earth, drinks are on me,'" Tali read aloud, scrolling with one finger. "'Not being selfless or anything, I just wanna be able to say I bought the hero of the universe a drink.'"

The grin on Shepard's face widened, and then faltered as he stared at nothing in particular. "He doesn't know," he said quietly. "About EDI. Why she died."

Tali's expression beneath her visor saddened. She tapped the datapad idly into one palm several times, and then deposited it on the nearby table. She sat in her chair, resting a hand on Shepard's arm. "Telling him won't be easy," she said. "But I know you'll do the right thing. And Joker will, too. He might be angry - your friendship might never be the same - but he's a smart guy. He'll understand."

Shepard nodded silently, still looking distantly into space, and then seemed to pull himself out of his thoughts. He smiled at Tali and put his own hand on top of hers. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Tali told him. "I had breakfast with Garrus and the others. The food hasn't improved, but it was fun looking back on the last few years with them." She placed a probing hand on his forehead, as though to detect a fever. "How's the pain?"

"Technically, it's worse now than it was before," Shepard said, and tapped a yellowish tube inserted into his wrist. "This stuff you started me on yesterday is supposed to ensure that I don't lose feeling at any point of my body." He winced. "Let's just say that a little numbness wouldn't be unwelcome right now."

Tali's hand moved down from his forehead, running along the side of his face until it fell down to the mattress. "There's a human saying that Han'Gerrel took a liking to after meeting you. I guess you sparked an interest in human literature, or something. How did it go..." Tali looked off to the side as she racked her brain, and then back to Shepard as it hit her. "Oh - 'it's always darkest before the dawn.'" She nodded, appearing rather proud of her multicultural knowledge. "The pain is bad now, but it'll pass, Shepard."

The commander nodded slowly, eyes searching her visor. "That's good. I like that. Thanks, Tali."

Silence descended, with the two lovers averting their gazes, Shepard's to the bedside portrait and Tali's to her lap; and then, with uncanny synchronization, they both looked up into each other's eyes, talking with the rapidity of those who are intent on saying something before the courage to do so fades.

"Tali, I have something - "

"We need to - "

They blinked at each other, and then laughed ruefully. Shepard rubbed the back of his neck. "Looks like we're on the same wavelength."

"Looks that way," Tali agreed quietly, hands rubbing and squeezing together. Her glowing eyes fixed on Shepard's. "Hackett wasn't here just out of the kindness of his heart, was he?"

Shepard clasped his hands on his lap and stared down at them, shaking his head. "No. He wasn't." He looked out the window on the far side of the room for a moment, and then at Tali. "He came to tell me that Alliance command wants to promote me to Admiral."

It felt to Tali as though her heart stopped for a moment, as though a strange, cool ice was flowing through her veins; and then the sensation passed, leaving her with a sense of dispossession. Her gut told her how how much she hated this development, the idea of losing Shepard to the Alliance more than ever before - after all, she had seen for herself how admiralty was usually a very full-time commitment - but she also recognized that this was an accomplishment for her beloved, proof of his effectiveness as a soldier, and so she swallowed hard and summoned as bright a tone as she could. "Shepard, that's - congratulations."

"Thanks," Shepard said, but his voice was flat and his expression was not one of happiness. He scratched at his chin and stared out the window once more. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Tali. I, uhm...well, I'm not sure it was sinking in."

"That's okay," Tali said distractedly, and indeed she felt no resentment, was far too busy trying to calm her racing thoughts.

When next she turned her eyes to Shepard, he was gazing into her visor. "So what do you think?"

The young quarian woman opened her mouth, and then closed it, reaching up and rubbing at the surface of her mask agitatedly. She got to her feet and walked over to the window, hands fidgeting unconsciously. After what seemed a very long time she turned to face the man she loved, eyes appearing almost to glow even more brightly than usual.

"I'm tired, Shepard," she said, the vulnerability and weariness in her voice lending credence to her words. "I'm tired of worrying, that the next time I see you off on a mission will be the last. I'm tired of missing you, of those lonely nights where all I can do is stare up at the ceiling and wish you were with me. I'm tired of _waiting_ for you, to be able to love me like I love you."

She returned to the bed, his gaze never leaving her, his expression unreadable save for the pain, pain not of muscles but of the soul, that he could not quite contain. Tali sat on the edge of the mattress and locked eyes with him, voice wavering slightly. "And I do love you, Shepard, _so_ much. There is no man that I could ever be happier with. But I need to know, once and for all: are we going to start living for each other, or are we going to keep living for everyone else?"

Shepard swallowed hard, visibly, and ran a hand across his brow. He looked off to the side, now placing that hand to his mouth and jaw, and then turned back to Tali. Slowly he took her hands into his, keeping his gaze on them. "When I woke up, in the rubble...I remembered the words you'd said to me. 'Come back to me,' you said. So I did." His eyes rose to hers. "Do _you_ remember the words _I_ said, the day I told you how I felt about you?"

And Tali did remember, vividly, so vividly that it seemed she was standing in the Normandy SR-2's engine room again, facing a Shepard dressed in the uniform of a Cerberus ship captain, her heart fluttering as he spoke words she had only dreamt of hearing. "You said you didn't want anyone else," Tali whispered. "You wanted...me."

Shepard pulled her hands to his chest, over his heart, and squeezed them firmly. His eyes shone with the same conviction, the same light, that had given so many beings the confidence and hope they needed to fight against hopeless odds. "All I need is you, Tali. All I want is you. I'm refusing the promotion."

Tali did not attempt to clear the tears blurring her vision as she pounced forward, wrapping Shepard in a tight hug, feeling quite convinced that her body could not possibly contain the happiness and relief coursing through her, that she would no doubt burst; and as Shepard smiled warmly, returning the hug with all the strength his weakened body could muster, he did not object to the exuberant removal of her mask, nor, certainly, to the passionate kiss that ensued.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Next up: final chapter! Thanks for continued reading/reviewing.

"So let me get this straight," Garrus said, the harsh features of his avian-esque face appearing all the more pronounced in the bright, stark lighting of the lobby that night. Not long after Shepard and Tali had committed to a future centered on their love, the light systems in the entire hospital had seemed to come to life, brightening throughout the building, almost as if in response to the happiness emanating from the two of them. The actual explanation was significantly less romantic, involving army corps grid repairs and regional timetables - but the end result was welcomed by one and all nonetheless, for the dim lighting of the facility up to that point had made nights particularly gloomy. "On top of this absurd 'football' Jacob is so fond of, you humans also have _arm wrestling_?"

Kaidan, sitting across from him, leaning forward with hands clasped, nodded, expression deadly serious but a gleam in his eye. "Right. But you have to understand, football is a casual sport. Something for the masses. Arm wrestling?" The biotic grinned. "It's been called the 'contest of kings.'"

Garrus burst into laughter and shook his head. "By _you_, just now?"

Kaidan shrugged and sat back, looking off casually to the side, where Wrex and Grunt were conversing in muted tones. "Don't put it down until you try it, Garrus. Although we'd probably want to start you against a kid or something, work your way up to the big leagues..." At that he flexed his arm muscles in a display of mock confidence, staring pointedly at his turian friend.

Liara, sitting nearby with Javik, who was typing into a datapad, laughed. "You're not going to take that, are you, Garrus?"

The former vigilante snorted and threw his hands up. "Is it me, or is this whole hospital visit turning into some kind of interspecies olympics?" He stood, stretching his hands out at arm's length and interlocking the fingers. "Alright, Major, I'll humor you. How do we do this thing?"

"You sure?" Kaidan asked, raising one brow, eyes still twinkling. "Once you agree to an arm wrestle, the ancient laws of my people dictate that you can't turn back."

"And the laws of _my_ people dictate that if you don't get this over with, I'm going to punch you right in the face."

"Alright, alright," Kaidan chuckled, and set to it, getting to his own feet and performing a short rearranging of the lobby chairs. When he was finished, a small arena of sorts was established, consisting simply of a coffee table and enough exposed floor on either side for one occupant.

Sighing with the resignation of a condemned man complying with a death sentence, Garrus fell to his knees on the side opposite Kaidan. "You said one arm, right?"

"Your stronger arm," Kaidan confirmed, placing his right elbow atop the table's surface, fingers of his hand wriggling eagerly. "So if you're right-handed, use that arm."

"Most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," the turian grumbled. "And I've played football." A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up to see the other lobby occupants forming a ring of spectators around them. "Oh, great, we've got an audience."

Wrex chortled. "Wouldn't miss it." He held his arms out grandly. "Sporting event of the century, and I've got the best seat in the house."

"Can I play?" Grunt inquired eagerly, looking unsettlingly like a very large and reptilian child trying to partake in the newest big game on the playground.

Kaidan smiled up at him. "You can take the winner."

Grunt nodded his understanding, but the idle stomping of his feet and the vague growl-whine that escaped his mouth betrayed his impatience.

After another moment of general positioning, the two competitors were ready, arms resting upright on the table, hands clasped and eyes locked. On Kaidan's face was a kind of dry amusement with the whole situation as he nodded, once, at Garrus. "You ready?"

"Abso_lutely_," the turian replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, drawing a laugh from Liara.

"And...go!"

The small crowd leaned in with anticipation, no doubt expecting to see Garrus suffer a quick and amusing defeat. The newcomer to arm wrestling stared blankly at Kaidan for a long moment, and then down at their arms. "Uh...didn't you say to start?"

It was then that he, and everyone else, noticed Kaidan's face had turned rather red, lips pursed, brows scrunched together in concentration, and that his arm was trembling with the intense physical effort he was exerting in the attempt to wrest Garrus's into submission.

"Oh, my," Liara said, lips curling into a small smile, which she promptly hid behind the fingers of one hand.

Garrus scratched his face with his free hand. "Ah." And then, with one swift motion, he pressed Kaidan's arm down onto the table surface with a conclusive _smack_, claiming a clean victory.

Kaidan exhaled explosively, a sound which quickly transitioned into laughter. He nursed his vanquished appendage. "Good lord, Garrus, I didn't realize your arms were made of solid titanium."

"Not titanium," Garrus corrected lightly, staring at his hand as if he were seeing it for the first time. "Just good old-fashioned turian muscle."

Kaidan held up both of his hands disarmingly as his victorious friend looked at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Okay, _before_ you get started with the gloating, let me just say - "

"Kaidan, Kaidan," Garrus interjected soothingly. "What kind of man do you think I am, here?" He chuckled, and as the biotic Specter relaxed, rising to his feet, he continued, "I would never gloat over beating someone who clearly should have started against kids, or something, and worked his way up to the big leagues."

Kaidan winced, his body nearly bowling over as Wrex, laughing uproariously, slapped him on the back. "Guess I had that one coming."

And then he _did_ bowl over (although, thankfully, a chair was standing by to catch him), a casualty of Grunt's dogmatic charge for the lobby table which had become the grand arena for the friends' impromptu arm wrestling tournament. The tank-bred krogan lowered to his knees with such force that it was something of a miracle when the floor did not shatter.

Garrus rubbed his hand protectively. "And suddenly I'm not feeling quite so confident." He shot a sorrowful glance at Kaidan. "This is what you humans call 'karma,' isn't it?"

Kaidan just laughed. Grunt, meanwhile, shifted impatiently, putting first one hand and then the other on the tabletop, apparently consulting some unknown mental criteria in his choice of which to use. "Come on, princess, I don't have all day."

"Yes you do," Garrus said, blinking.

This repartee seemed to throw Grunt off of his guard. He glanced at the hand he'd settled on - his left - and then back at Garrus. "You know what I mean," he growled wryly.

"Sure, Grunt, whatever you say," Garrus replied. He positioned his arm appropriately for the impending contest and looked mournfully up at Liara. "If I don't get through this in one piece, tell my family that I've always tolerated them. And tell Shepard that I haven't forgotten he owes me five credits."

Liara nodded as solemnly as she could, which, to her credit, was an effort marred only by the upward twitching of her lips.

"Go!" Kaidan declared, as soon as the competitors' hands were joined, and so it began. Grunt immediately set to it with the same vigor which he had applied to the earlier eating contest in the cafeteria (which, incidentally, he had lost), his head moving alternatingly from side to side as though seeking some kind of exploitable element on the playing field, though what kind of advantage he hoped to find atop a coffee table was a mystery. Garrus, in comparison, appeared statuesque, completely still - his face was the only thing that moved, providing a window into his thoughts as he went once more from resignation to confusion, and then, this time, to understanding.

A smile, or the closest approximation to it that a turian face could afford, formed. "Hey, Grunt."

"What?" The krogan barked, never taking his eyes off the duel at hand.

"Wanna make this more interesting?"

Now Grunt did look at Garrus, his sharp eyes flitting up rapidly. "I'm listening."

Garrus drummed the fingers of his free hand on the table. "Loser has to write a poem about how awesome the winner is."

"A _what_?"

"A poem. You know, that sappy rhyming literature that asari and humans are so fond of."

Grunt squinted at the turian, mouth agape in bemusement. "You wanna write a _poem_ about me?"

"If you win, yes."

Grunt snorted and returned his attention to their arms. "Whatever. Sure."

"Excellent," Garrus said enthusiastically, and then subdued the krogan's powerful arm with the same ease as Kaidan's.

The small audience sounded off with applause and expressions of disbelief. Garrus pumped his fists into the air, looking about with mock arrogance. "I'm Garrus Vakarian, and _this_ is my favorite human sport!"

"No way!" Grunt griped, genuine shock clear on his pointed face. "What kind of chems are you feeding into those arms, turian?"

"He doesn't need any chems," Liara volunteered, now sitting in a chair next to Kaidan. "Turians in general have very powerful arms. It's a different kind of strength than a krogan, for instance, but very potent in its own right." She grinned at Garrus. "And Garrus here has had plenty of time to build them up even more than most."

"Don't spoil it with science, Liara," Garrus implored her. He turned his attention to Grunt. "I look forward to hearing your poem about me. Might I suggest the title 'Ode to Garrus'?"

Grunt planted his hands on the table and propelled himself to his feet. "You were _serious_ about that?"

"Now why would I joke about something so important?" Garrus asked. "Don't worry, Grunt, I'm sure you'll make an excellent poet."

The tank-bred darkly grumbled something concerning the capacity of poetry to slander an individual and returned to his usual place by Wrex's side. The krogan chieftain jabbed a clawed finger in Garrus's direction. "Don't move, Garrus. You ain't beat a krogan in arm wrestling until you face Urdnot Wrex."

Grunt snickered and pumped his fists together. "Kick his skinny ass back to Palaven!"

To the surprise of one and all it was Javik's voice that next chimed in. "You krogan have had your chance," the prothean said calmly, already gliding over to the position opposite Garrus with fluidic grace and kneeling down. His four eyes settled on the turian's face, hard and shrewd. "To this day, you have been fortunate enough not to know a prothean as your adversary. Steel yourself, turian."

"Uh-huh," Garrus chuckled, putting his elbow back on the table and offering his hand. "Well, now, _this_ should be interesting. Tell me, Javik, did your people _arm wrestle_ the other races of the galaxy into submission?"

Javik's hand joined tightly with his. "If you are using 'arm wrestle' as a euphamism for 'applying devastating military force,' then the answer to your query is…yes."

The now-inconsequential instigator of the Nathan Levitt Medical Center arm wrestling competition, Kaidan, again offered his declaration of "Go!" - but it was, this time, unnecessary, for Javik and Garrus were already into it.

This match, as the audience quickly became aware, would not be an easy victory for the turian champion - his prothean rival's arms were those of a predator, lean and formidable. Realizing the seriousness of the challenge, Garrus was soon exerting his full effort, muscles of his arms straining - consequently, Javik's exertions intensified as well, and a sort of tug-of-war ensued, with first one arm and then the other teetering toward disaster before steadying itself and making a desperate push back.

Liara's startled gasp and subsequent laughter marked the abrupt end of hostilities. Garrus slumped back against a nearby chair, running a hand down the length of his face, as Javik sat completely still, expression unreadable, his conquered limb still resting where it had fallen, unresponsive to the light-hearted hoots and comments of the spectating friends.

"Well, snare my tail and call me dinner," Wrex remarked, crossing his arms. "I believe this is what you might call 'an historic moment.'"

Grunt looked from Javik's face to Garrus's. "Does he have to write a poem, too?"

Garrus, regaining his composure, stood, shaking his head. "Nah, I was a little too busy trying to keep my arm from getting mauled to set up anything like that." He swept his eyes over everyone. "Let it not be said that I didn't work my ass off for my crown."

Liara had moved over to Javik and was hovering by him, emanating simultaneous amusement and concern, as he lumbered creakily to his full height. "Oh, Javik - " she giggled, and then hastily straightened her face. "You put up a good fight."

Javik did not respond, keeping his eyes glued on Garrus. And then: "Have I yet had the opportunity to remark on what an excellent subservient race your people would have been?"

Garrus shot a subtle glance in Kaidan and the krogans' direction, prompting poorly stifled chuckles. "You might have mentioned that once or twice, yeah."

The prothean nodded unsmilingly. His glanced at Liara, whose hand was covering her mouth - ostensibly to hide her continued amusement - and then turned to Kaidan. "Garrus earned his victory fairly, but the contest itself is absurd beyond comprehension. If your people ever intend to establish a Cosmic Imperative of your own, you should abolish it immediately."

Kaidan looked flabbergasted. "R - right. I'll take that into consideration."

Javik gave another solemn nod and turned about, making for the far side of the lobby. Liara joined him, casting a cheerfully confused look over her shoulder similar to the one being exchanged by the rest of the former Normandy crewmates.

"And that's the end of that," Garrus said after a moment, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around until his dark eyes found Kaidan. "I hope you got what you wanted."

"Bruising my own ego, inflating yours, and something confusing about 'cosmic imperatives?'" Kaidan replied, puckering his lips thoughtfully and then shrugging. "Yeah, sure. What more could a guy ask for?"

"Here, here," Wrex assented, chortling in a way that seemed to come from deep in his chest, and moved off with the others to join Liara and Javik. Grunt stayed behind for a moment, shaking his wide head.

"A _poem_," he mumbled, and then he trudged after them, looking for all the world like a petulant adolescent after being assigned a particularly distasteful essay - which, to be fair, was not all that far from the truth.

* * *

Urdnot Bont was all but scared off from Shepard's room the following morning, the victim of a ruthlessly thorough line of questioning on the part of Tali, one concerning her boyfriend's diet, his chemical treatments, and the details of the physical therapy routine mentioned casually by the unsuspecting doctor. Finally the krogan had simply growled, activated his omni-tool, and transferred a goodly portion of medical files on Shepard to her, followed by a hasty retreat before the quarian woman could think up any more questions.

Unperturbed by his departure, Tali plopped down on the edge of Shepard's mattress, perusing the contents of the newly received data and radiating a cheerfully businesslike attitude. The commander watched amusedly, raising his eyebrow as she began to hum. "Someone's in a good mood this morning."

Tali cocked her head to one side but did not shift attention from her omni-tool. "I wonder why _that_ might be," she said with feigned contemplativeness.

Shepard glanced at the door through which Bont had so recently escaped. "Because you enjoy interrogating doctors until they break?"

"Oh, please." Tali picked up a container of pills, tapped several into her palm, and offered them to him. "Bont's been a doctor for centuries. He's dealt with epidemics and disaster zones. I'm sure he's handled much more intensive questioning than _I_ just gave him."

Shepard gulped down the medicine. "Maybe," he conceded dryly. He nodded at his girlfriend's glowing omni-tool. "Anything interesting?"

"Well, let's see." Tali's gloved fingers swiped and pressed at the device. "Looks like you only have to put up with that yellow chem stuff for another week."

Shepard's face split into a grin. He looked down at the tube which was at that very moment injecting the aforementioned substance into his body. "That's a relief. I don't even like _looking_ at it."

Tali nodded, and then froze, leaning intently toward her display. Shepard's optimistism was replaced by wariness. "What's wrong?"

No response was immediately forthcoming - Tali's bright eyes scanned from side to side, absorbing the information at hand. She looked up at Shepard. "Well...uhm...I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, but - well - "

"It's okay," Shepard said firmly, even as dark possibilities and desolate outcomes played out in his head. Had she found an expiration date on him, or something? "Just say it."

The three-fingered hand not covered by an orange haptic interface curled and uncurled. "It just says..." Tali said hesitantly. "That the physical therapy is likely to be...'moderately to severely painful'...for the first few days."

Shepard blinked at her, and the terse set of his facial muscles relaxed, dissolving into a warm smile. He chuckled heartily, making it Tali's turn to look confused. "I don't see what's so funny about that," she said.

"Tali," Shepard said, his laughter subsiding. "I walked through the streets of London while my body was falling apart to get here. I was grazed by a Reaper weapon during the charge to the Citadel. I _died _when the Collectors attacked the Normandy." He indicated his girlfriend's omni-tool. "The prospect of a little pain during physical therapy isn't exactly enough to put me in a cold sweat."

Tali seemed to consider this for a moment, and then she, too, laughed, ducking her head sheepishly. "Right. I guess I forgot that I'm in love with the galaxy's biggest masochist." Her eyes rose to his face, and she stroked his cheek. "I just don't like the thought of you hurting."

"Oh, yeah?" Shepard teased, pulling her hand to his lips and holding it briefly to them. "Then what's with all the pouncing?"

It took the quarian a moment to understand what he was referring to, but when she did, her glowing eyes widened and Shepard could vividly envision the furious blushing that was no doubt heating up her face. "That's – I mean, that's just – I get a little – "

Shepard laughed again, releasing Tali's hand and holding the side of his torso. Pain or not, she was one of the only people he could remember who had ever made him laugh so genuinely, let alone inspire real affection and love.

Tali, apparently having amicably given up any attempt at understanding what was amusing him, shook her head and resumed her study of Bont's medical records. Shepard's merriment trailed off when, abruptly, she sprang to her feet.

"Something else?" He asked, blinking.

Tali tapped a finger thoughtfully against the mouthpiece of her mask, and then reached down and deactivated her omni-tool. She squeezed Shepard's shoulder. "No. Well – yes, but nothing bad this time. Something good, actually."

"Oh," the commander said, still looking no less confused than a volus attempting to achieve deep understanding of human interpretive dance. "What?"

Tali rubbed her hands together, a glint in her already shining eyes. "You'll have to wait and see," she informed him cheerfully, and walked toward the door. "I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Shepard said lamely as the door closed behind her.

Still mystified, he spent a few moments simply fiddling with his hands, rapping out vaguely musical rhythms against his blanketed thighs, staring out the window at the bright gray light of another cloudy day. This, predictably, became boring rather quickly. Shepard considered trying to doze off, but after sleeping soundly the night before, with Tali pressed snugly against him, he did not think he would be able to manage it.

Ultimately he settled on further inspecting the belongings which Joker had mailed to him. He had left the bag containing them on the floor nearby, and after enduring the brief discomfort of leaning down and picking it up, he exhaled contentedly and undid the zipper.

Shepard had already gone through many of the items within, making the examination largely a review process. After a little rummaging (and a near-disastrous encounter with a drell knife given to him by Thane), he found several more image captures similar to the one of Tali, the result of those rare moments during his time as commander of the Normandy which he had wanted to immortalize.

There was a picture of Illium's skyline, one of the most breathtaking sights he had ever witnessed, and with it, a follow-up which was identical save for the smiling faces of Thane, Jack, Samara, Kasumi and Zaeed; the warm feelings brought on by that iamge were promptly chased off by a snapshot of the derelict Reaper whose IFF had been vital to the success of assaulting the Collector base, a display of horrible, grandiose beauty which he had taken almost without thinking; there was a picture of Mordin Solus, eyes bright and intelligent, a smile on his narrow face while he worked in his lab on the Normandy.

Shepard ran a finger fondly down the edge of that capture, a smile appearing on his own face. He heard his old salarian friend's voice echo in his head,

_Someone else might have gotten it wrong_

but this time it was only in fond reminiscence.

There were pictures, too, from his more recent tour of duty on the Normandy, during the Reaper war. In the first he came upon, James Vega and Lieutenant Steve Cortez stood together in the ship's armory, the former's arm wrapped about the latter's shoulders and a fist ruffling the shuttle pilot's short hair, both wearing wide grins.

There was a picture of Liara's birthday celebration, one that brought a quiet chuckle out of Shepard – the asari sat at the ship's bar, a cup in her hand and mouth opened in a laugh, watching as her human commander and turian crewmate engaged in a drinking contest. Javik the prothean was there in the background, arms crossed and grim-faced. Shepard wondered if, back then, anything but derision had crossed his mind when thinking of the woman he was now joined with.

The image, as it had turned out, was captured not long before Thessia was attacked by the Reapers, an event which would rob Liara of the kind of laughter depicted – but Shepard did not give that fact too much thought as he moved on to the few remaining memories in the pile.

A picture of himself and Tali, sitting at one of the restaurants in the Citadel's Presidium Commons, taken by a passing turian at their request, quickly joined the portrait sitting on Shepard's bedside table. The two of them had been in high spirits that night, shortly after the reclaiming of Rannoch for the quarians, because not only were they back together again, but they had killed a Reaper, as well, and their prospects for victory seemed better than they had for a long time.

Joker and Samantha Traynor sat in the Normandy's lounge in the next image, playing chess while EDI stood nearby. Shepard chuckled again, remembering how the synthetic had offered a running commentary on Joker's every move and driven the poor man to distraction.

Shepard, a small smile on his face and a distant look in his eye, let his hands, and the pictures they held, fall into his lap. That life, the one depicted in those same pictures, was over now. That had always been the goal – the defeat of the Reapers and possibility of peaceful existence for himself and all of his friends – and he was still completely confident in, and happy with, the decision to settle down after his recovery. But it felt strange, nonetheless, to transport himself back into the hectic months and years which had brought him to the present, times which were at once long past and extremely close.

_Now the next chapter begins. A new life. _He glanced down. _And a new photo album._

He was laying the images down nearby, on his mattress, and resuming a dissection of his bag's contents when the room's door swung open. Shepard, still lost in introspection, did not look up ashe presumed the intruder's identity and said, "That was fast. I found some more pictures if you want to take a look. Lots of old – "

"Might wanna check who you're talking to, commander," a voice which was male and definitely not Tali's interrupted.

Following this advice, Shepard's eyes rose speedily to behold Kaidan Alenko, posture relaxed and hands casually resting in his pockets. His biotic friend wore a good-natured, amused expression which was very familiar – he recalled seeing it many times during the Normandy crew's several forays into the clubbing scene, most usually in response to his own dance moves.

"Kaidan," he exclaimed, pushing his bag aside and offering a hand. "Was just thinking about you. About old times."

Kaidan took several easy strides forward and clasped hands with him, giving two firm shakes before moving in closer and using his other hand to grip the commander's shoulder. "Glad to hear I'm not forgotten." Stepping back, he nodded down at the pictures resting on the bed. "Trip down memory lane, huh?"

Shepard smiled and indicated that his friend should take a closer look at them. As Kaidan obliged, picking them up and thumbing through each in turn, he said, "You could say that, yeah. Looking back on the carefree days of our youth."

Kaidan laughed. "'Carefree' isn't the word I'd use." He examined one image closely and then flipped it so that Shepard could see. It was the snapshot of Liara's birthday celebration. "Now _that _was a hell of a night."

"That it was," Shepard concurred.

"I mean, I knew you could fight, I knew you could lead a team, and I knew you couldn't dance to save your life," the biotic human continued, drawing laughter from his former commanding officer. "But _that _was the night I learned you could _drink_."

"And don't forget it," Shepard warned dryly, prodding a finger in Kaidan's direction. He gazed wistfully at the cup of plain water which sat, ever-present, on his bedside table. "Could use a drink right about now."

"I'd help you with that, but I'm pretty sure Bont would skin me alive." Kaidan deposited the pile of photos onto the table and settled down into the bedside chair. "So. You made up your mind yet?"

Shepard's brow furrowed. For the past several days, his thoughts had often been consumed by the choice of committing to Alliance admiralty or his personal relationship with Tali - was that what Kaidan was asking about? What else could it have been? And more importantly - how did he know?

"Not sure I follow," he managed as casually as he could.

"Well, y'know..." Kaidan leaned forward a bit, holding his hands to either side. "It's like one day you're dead, and the next, you're alive and kicking. Probably time to settle on one or the other."

The closed set of Shepard's face relaxed, and he chuckled. "Don't worry, Major. I'm not receiving the best reviews on the whole 'dead or alive' routine. Figure it's time to focus on the 'living' part."

"Amen," Kaidan said, grinning widely. After a moment, the grin faded. "I just wanna say, Shepard..." he trailed off, staring at the floor, and then he looked back up. "Well. I'm glad you're okay. We all are." He laughed softly. "I don't know how the hell you pulled it off, but still."

Shepard's lip curled up in a small smile. "Thanks, Kaidan. And I've appreciated all of the visits. I have good friends. The best." He shifted slightly. "As for the 'how,' that's a story for another day."

"Fair enough," Kaidan replied easily. He fell back into the depths of the chair, resting clasped hands atop his torso. He paused. "The Council sends its regards. Whatever that's worth."

Shepard looked surprised. "I'm just surprised they're _alive_. I thought the Reapers decimated everyone on the Citadel before the battle for Earth."

"They did," Kaidan confirmed. "But lucky for the Council, they weren't _on_ the Citadel when it got hit. They were off doing some photo-op on a world that had already been hit. Showing 'solidarity.'"

"I see." Shepard nodded. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "I'll have to thank them, I guess. If you're in contact with them, that must mean you're back on Specter duties?"

"I asked about that." Kaidan made a sour face. "They politely reminded me that once you're a Specter, you don't _stop_ unless _they_ tell you to. So yeah." He flourished a hand. "Still the second human Specter, at your service."

"I know you, Kaidan," Shepard said lightly. "The Reapers may be gone, but you aren't ready to settle down yet. The fact that you're still a Specter is a good thing."

"You're not wrong." The biotic straightened. His expression was clouded. "But it still feels strange, accepting the Council's command after everything that's happened. Where were they when Khar'shan fell? When Thessia was trashed? They took too long getting their act together, and when they _did_, it was only because _you_ kicked them into gear." He shook his head. "And nothing has changed, Shepard. When you're out of here, sure, they'll honor you for the vid recorders. You're a hero to this galaxy, and they don't wanna be on the wrong side of that. But they'll take credit. And they don't deserve it."

Shepard considered this for a time, running one hand along the opposite arm before replying. "Maybe they _were_ a little slow, Kaidan, but they still helped. Everyone did. While we were flying around the galaxy trying to find the key to beating the Reapers, the Council and thousands of others were making the Crucible's construction possible. No one person can claim all of the credit for ending the war, least of all me." He shot a sly glance at his friend. "And anyway, you're a _Specter_. While the Council may technically be in charge, you still have pretty much free reign to help wherever you want, however you want. And I know you're going to make us all proud."

Kaidan stared piercingly at him, and then grinned. "You sure know how to calm a man down, Shepard. I can see how you brokered peace between the turians and the krogan."

Shepard smiled back at him. "You already knew everything I said, just like the krogan and turians knew everything I said to _them._ You just needed to hear someone say it." He crossed his arms. "You must have had time to think about what's next. Any plans?"

"Aside from putting on my Specter armor and kicking chem dealer asses from here to Omega?" Kaidan chuckled and rested his cheek against one upheld fist. "I was talking to Tali the other day. Telling her about what a delinquent I was as a kid. How horrible I was to my parents." His eyes became hazy, as though focused inward. "There are a lot of kids out there who are just like that. Who need direction, a reality check."

"That sounds like a good cause," Shepard said honestly. "How will you make it happen?"

Kaidan rested both hands in his lap. "I'm starting an Alliance initiative. Kind of like the Ascension program, but without the requirement of being a biotic. Any kid out there who needs help, a place to go, whose parents don't know how to handle them - they can come to us. All of the instructors and volunteers will be people like me, who went through the same things. Maybe..." he frowned. "Maybe we can help a few families repair themselves before it's too late."

Shepard sighed and reached out, bumping Kaidan's knee with a fist. "It's one thing to recognize the mistakes we've made in our lives," he said quietly. "But it's another thing entirely to help other people avoid those same mistakes. That's a big thing you're doing, Kaidan." He smiled wryly. "Maybe even bigger than being the second human Specter."

Kaidan laughed warmly. It was a comforting sound, one that Shepard could remember hearing many times during the more light-hearted moments of the previous few years. "Maybe," the biotic said. "Closer to the heart, anyway."

Shepard watched, smile still on his face, as Kaidan stood and returned his hands to his pockets. The black-haired Specter regarded him thoughtfully.

"I'm glad I had a chance to talk with you, Shepard," he said at last. "Rate I was going, I thought you might be on your feet by the time I got up here."

"Yeah, that's still a ways off," Shepard chortled.

Kaidan nodded. "Well, I'm not going anywhere until you do, so you'll see me again."

"I appreciate that, Kaidan." Shepard snapped off a casual salute. "Do me a favor and keep the others in line. Especially Garrus."

Kaidan returned the salute. "Aye, sir." He made to move toward the door, and then stopped, turning back to the commander. "Did you know that turians are _amazing_ arm wrestlers?"

Shepard blinked. "Can't say I knew that. Why do you ask?"

Kaidan grinned, pursing his lips as though containing a laugh. "No reason," he said cryptically. "But if you value your pride, never challenge Garrus to an arm wrestle."

"Gotcha," Shepard replied, and as the door closed behind his old friend he was, for the second time that morning, left alone with a feeling of complete bafflement.

* * *

When Tali returned to her boyfriend's hospital room, not long after Kaidan's visit, she bore two things: a wooden tray laden with what appeared to be an assortment of human breakfast food, and an aura of unabashed pride and anticipation.

"Everything okay?" she asked in the same businesslike manner with which she had earlier examined Shepard's medical information, and zeroed in on him like a mother hen to her hatchling.

Shepard unclasped his hands from behind his head and watched the encroaching breakfast platter uneasily. "Yeah, doing fine." He nodded at the tray. "What's all this?"

Still moving efficiently, his quarian lover assumed the task of laying the tray over his lap, checking with her hands to ensure that it was not weighing too heavily and unraveling the napkin which encased a fork and knife. "Remember how I mentioned there was something _good_ in your medical file?"

"Yes," Shepard said, resisting the urge to point out that she had told him as much not twenty minutes ago and that while he was in poor physical condition, he was not, in fact, suffering from memory loss.

Tali stepped back, cocking her head to one side and surveying her handiwork critically for a moment. She gave a minute nod of satisfaction and plopped down in the bedside chair, beaming at him. "The file said you could start eating solid food again. Actually - " she glanced to the side and then back at Shepard. "It said you were able to a few days ago, but I guess Bont must have been playing it safe."

It was only through sheer determination that Shepard was able to tear his gaze from what he could only assume was a pile of pancakes on his tray, although he could not remember ever seeing green pancakes before. He frowned at Tali. "You're telling me that I could've stopped living on nutrient paste a few _days_ ago, and Bont didn't tell me?"

Tali shrugged cheerfully. "Like I said, I guess he was playing it safe. Or maybe he just likes watching you suffer." She indicated the food on his lap. "I figured you must have been sick of the paste, so I thought I'd try making you breakfast."

Shepard suppressed a scowl at the rather irrational mental image of Bont cackling evilly while hoarding all of the solid foods for himself. When he pushed the thought out of his mind, he noticed that Tali was watching him very eagerly, her eyes shifting from the food she'd made to his face.

He cracked a smile and held up his silverware, fork in one hand and knife in the other. "That was nice of you, Tali," he said. "_Bon appetit_."

The quarian leaned forward slightly as he picked up a piece of limp bacon and brought it to his mouth. "I've always wanted to try cooking," she said, speaking quickly and somewhat nervously. "Obviously, living on the Migrant Fleet, the closest we ever got to cooking was mixing ration gels together - but whenever I watched alien vids, especially human ones, I thought cooking looked so _fun_. And uhm, well..." she looked down at her fidgeting hands, and her voice softened. "I was afraid that...if I couldn't cook for you, you'd be...disappointed."

Again exercising the grit which had allowed him to defeat hordes of mercenaries, geth, Collectors and Reaper husks, Shepard swallowed a mouthful of bacon. His heart was warmed by the thoughtfulness of his girlfriend's gesture, but his stomach was more amazed that she had managed to make one of his favorite foods taste appalling. _It _is_ only her first time cooking it_, he told himself.

This feat of ingestion accomplished, he turned concerned eyes to Tali. "I think you've watched too _many_ vids. The idea that I would be disappointed, or upset in any way, because you didn't know how to cook...I can't even imagine feeling that way about you."

Tali blinked at him. "But - in so many of your human vids, the woman cooks for the man. Isn't that something you look for in a...uh..." she blushed in her unique way which was somehow always perceptible despite her visor. "Mate?"

Shepard couldn't hold back a laugh. He reached out and squeezed one of Tali's hands. "That's an old gender role stereotype," he explained. "We - well, most of us - got over that a long time ago." He smiled. "In fact, a lot of men cook for their wives nowadays."

"Oh," Tali said. She rubbed the back of her hooded head. "Keelah, I'm such a dork. I didn't make you uncomfortable with all of this, did I?"

"Not at all," Shepard assured her firmly, and for emphasis he took a hefty bite of green pancake which promptly left him wanting to regurgitate. Resisting the urge, he widened his smile to its most winning extent, blinking through watering eyes. "It was very thoughtful of you to make this for me, Tali. Just because we don't expect our women to cook for us anymore doesn't mean we don't appreciate it. It's - " he gritted his teeth. "Delicious."

Tali blushed again, happily this time. "Good," she said, and leaned in, resting clasped hands on the mattress. She watched him wade through several more forkfuls before speaking again. "So, uhm...I've been thinking about what we discussed last night."

Shepard eyed her expectantly, inviting her to continue.

"If we _are_ going through with this," she said obligingly, "we're going to need to decide where to settle down."

Shepard swallowed another bite and, ignoring the protests of his digestive system, met Tali's gaze. "We _are_ going through with it. I've never been more sure of anything in my life." He laid down his fork and took a sip of water. "And you're right. That's a decision we have to make."

"I mean, it doesn't really matter _where_," Tali said, speaking quickly. "As long as we're together, we could live on Omega, for all I care. I was just wondering if you had any...you know...preference."

Shepard leaned back against his bed's headboard, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Tali watched his every movement anxiously, eyes roaming his face as though looking for a hint of his thoughts - for while she spoke true, and would be happy anywhere with him, all she could see in her mind's eye was a home on the same sun-bathed cliff where she had mourned his apparent death, on the world of her people.

And Shepard, attuned to her as he was, knew this, knew that despite the honesty of her assurances, her heart belonged not only to him but to Rannoch, as well. A small part of him whispered that he had sacrificed enough for other peoples' happiness, that he would be more comfortable on Earth or another human colony and had earned as much; but a bigger part, a happier part, wanted nothing more than to give Tali everything she wanted, and could see only the fresh prospect of adventure which would result from settling on the quarian homeworld.

"I _do_ have a preference, now that you mention it," he said at last, very casually. "Y'know, there was a lot of heavy fighting during the war, but can you guess which fight I remember the most?"

Tali blinked again, considering the question. "The battle for London?"

"That was a bad one," Shepard agreed. "But not _the_ one." He glanced sidelong at her, a small smile on his lips. "Remember watching your idiot human boyfriend dance around in front of a Reaper, coordinating airstrikes with an orbiting fleet?"

Understanding dawned in Tali's eyes. "You bosh'tet," she giggled. "I've never worried so much in my entire life. I think I must have left a permanent bruise on Garrus's arm, gripping it while I watched."

Shepard nodded, still grinning. "I'll probably have nightmares about that for the rest of my life," he said lightly, and then stared meaningfully into Tali's eyes. "Not fun. But if we settle down there...on Rannoch...I think it would all be worth it."

Tali's hands shot up to her mouthpiece, where she held them as though in prayer. "You're sure?" she asked, voice wavering a little. "Because I meant it, Shepard, Ancestors know I did - I'll be happy anywhere - "

"Tali," Shepard cut her off quietly, but his voice expressed every bit of his confidence. He rested a hand on her knee. "I'm sure." He reached out and placed his free hand on the side of her mask. "Let's build you that home on Rannoch."

Urdnot Bont would sometimes wonder, throughout the rest of his many days, why, when he checked on Shepard that afternoon, both the commander and his quarian mate were so out of breath, and why the former seemed particularly sensitive to the touch (particularly his lower torso and groin), and why the latter's suit appeared more rumpled than usual, and why, most of all, they perpetually shot surreptitious glances at each other during his visit.

But he had a guess, and so he tried not to contemplate the mystery too often.

* * *

Grunt stood in his gleaming silver armor before a semi-circular collection of spectators gathered in the hospital lobby. In his thick fingers he held a thin datapad which looked as though it might snap in two if he exerted just a smidgen of pressure, and in his reptilian eyes was unease as he looked from one smiling face to the other.

"Was the audience really necessary?" he grumbled, directing the question at Garrus, who sat at the center of the assembly.

"No," the turian conceded with a twinkle in his eye. "But it _is_ pretty funny."

Liara waved a hand. "Don't mind us, Grunt. Pretend we're not here."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Grunt complained, managing to grumble even more sulkily than before.

Javik, sitting next to Liara with one leg folded over the other and his arms crossed over his armored chest, narrowed his eyes. "Why do you even comply with this ridiculous wager, Grunt? You lost the wrestling match, but there is no compulsion to read this so-called 'poem.' No repercussion will meet you if you do not play along."

"It's not about repercussions," Grunt snapped, straightening his posture and lifting his sharp chin. "It's about _honor_. I was defeated, and accepted Garrus's terms. I would be less of a krogan if I didn't stay true to my word."

Wrex wiped a make-believe tear from his eye. "Krogan after my own heart," he commented sardonically to Garrus, who chuckled heartily.

"I'm sure it'll be beautiful, Grunt," Kaidan remarked from one of the chairs, holding a hand to his mouth to conceal a smile.

"Okay, shut up, everyone," Grunt's deep voice rose in volume, all traces of tragic heroism gone, replaced by a cynical weariness that would have made any salarian proud. He held his datapad out before him and squinted down at it. "Let's get this over with."

The krogan cleared his throat and recited:

_Turian warrior, scrawny frame chiseled_

_from stone of ancient worlds;_

_O, turian warrior, battle-hardened_

_and annoying like pyjak infestation!_

_No equal in dueling of arms,_

_which is probably good because you suck_

_at everything else;_

_O turian warrior, I hope you choke_

_on your own weird food_

_and_

"That's as far as I got," Grunt said, letting the hand holding the datapad fall to his side.

Silence ensued. The spectators exchanged glances ranging from shocked to amused, and then Kaidan burst into laughter. He stood, applauding. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, Grunt."

"I feel like it got progressively more _angry_ as it went on," Garrus said thoughtfully, holding one hand to his chin. He looked innocently at the tank-bred krogan. "Grunt, you're not angry, are you?"

Grunt glared at him, and then rubbed the back of his neck. "I tried at first, but poetry is _boring_. Not nearly as good as krogan battlesong. Made me want to tear my claws out."

"On _that_, we agree," Wrex said, jabbing a finger in his subordinate's direction.

Liara, looking very much like she was struggling to contain her own amusement, looked at Garrus. "Actually, that was better than a lot of actual poetry I've read."

"Liara, that's because you hate poetry," the turian replied dryly.

Grunt butted in, voice raised and slightly irritable. "You got your poem, Garrus. Happy now?"

Garrus made an exxaggerated grimace and hissed hesitatingly. "Hmm, I dunno..."

Everyone watched him continue to debate internally for a moment, and then Grunt threw his hands up into the air resignedly and trudged off. "Screw it," the krogan griped. "The prothean was right, don't know why I bothered to begin with..."

Javik nodded knowingly. Wrex chortled and lumbered to his feet, following the tank-bred. Looking hurt, Garrus called after them, "You'll send me that poem file, won't you, Grunt? I want to remember this moment!"

"Go dive in a maw nest!" was the shouted reply.

Kaidan strolled up behind his turian friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, watching the krogan stomping farther and farther away. "It's moments like these," he said, grinning at those remaining in the lobby, "that teach us the true value of friendship."


	14. Chapter 14

There was something strange going on with Admiral Steven Hackett's face.

The admiral had been puzzling over what, exactly, was making his famously grim face feel so _weird_ (and _weird_ really was the only word that described it appropriately) during recent days before realizing the simple answer, one so simple that it gave even him pause: he had been spending a lot of time _smiling_, lately.

The three weeks following his visit with commander Shepard had certainly given him ample reason to smile. The entire civilized galaxy was rising rapidly from the ashes of its intended doom, more rapidly than any of its inhabitants could have expected; cities were standing tall and proud once more, scarred monuments were restored and rebuilt, and a crippled interstellar economy was seeing its gears repaired and rebooted.

This trend of smiling - a sensation which Hackett was finding agreeable, if a little tiresome for the muscles of his face - may well have found its roots in the admiral's visit to Khar'shan, a day after his last visit to commander Shepard. On that charred world, the first victim of the Reapers and recipient of the full devastating brunt of their cold genocide, he had seen beings of every race and creed working side by side, offering comfort and camaradie to one another while bringing the cold corpse of a planet back to life. Hackett had turned to his peers, peers who had long since declared the batarian homeworld too far gone, completely irreperable, and the shock on their face had made him smile, for if he had ever wanted to see people proven wrong, it was them.

The smiling habit was likely bolstered by his subsequent visit to Palaven, the turian homeworld which the Reapers had targeted early on in an effort to cripple the galaxy's strongest military before it could muster itself. Hackett had expected to find the planet in the same state he had witnessed on countless vids and reports during the war, and there _was_ damage, mind-boggling in its extent - but the determination and grit of its natives and their allies had suffered no such injury. It had been impossible _not_ to smile, walking through the streets of the capitol city and watching turians and krogan, so recently divided by a centuries-old hatred, laughing and slapping each other's backs while cooperating to lay down new building foundations and clear rubble. Hackett wondered how the Reapers might have felt, provided their machine hearts were capable of feeling anything, if they could see the ultimate result of their deadly campaign - a galaxy more united than ever before.

Stopping by Thessia and depositing significant Alliance reconstruction resources there had done nothing to help Hackett's face revert back to its usual solemnity. The beautiful world's flawless appearance had been left with a scar, but that scar was on the mend, and the spirit of its asari children was contagious as they worked, singing with innate and compelling beauty, denying the vanquished Reapers the satisfaction of any lingering despair. Its soaring towers, aesthetically compelling and the marvel of the entire galaxy, soared up into the endless sky once more.

And now, sitting in the Alliance transport which had been selected to bear commander Shepard and his friends from the hospital to one of the city's spaceports, admiral Hackett felt that increasingly familiar tug at his lips. It was an idyllic winter day, crisp and dry, the sun beaming down from a clear blue sky, a far cry from the dreary wetness of his last visit. The streets were, for the first time since ancient harbingers of apocalypse had descended from the heavens, bustling with activity, and not just that of reconstruction workers (though they were out in force, too, many of them chatting agreeably and enjoying the weather); the citizens of the city, and Earth in general, were starting to live again. Families strolled down freshly paved sidewalks, storeowners accepted the money of much-needed customers, youths rolled down streets on recreational transports, and to Hackett's quiet amusement, small children gaped unashamedly up at towering krogan workers, whose reactions ranged from vague discomfort to warm greeting.

The longtime admiral checked his watch. It was early yet - just a little after eight o'clock, local time. The spacecraft which would take Shepard and his friends off of Earth and to their respective destinations was not scheduled to depart for another two hours, but Hackett wanted sufficient time to make sure the process was smooth and unobstructed. He hoped he had timed things accordingly.

He inhaled and then exhaled heavily through his nose, returning his gaze to the window. The closely built shops and businesses of moments ago were transitioning to the more scenic buildings and greenery which indicated Nathan Levitt Medical Center was near. The admiral marveled at the cleanliness of the area - if he had not witnessed it for himself, he would be hard pressed to believe that the Reapers' weapons had devastated the place not long ago. The small smile on his lips widened slightly. The cyle of the Reapers had been broken, but the cycle of life on Earth - and everywhere else - was already back on track.

"Uh, sir," a nervous voice, that of the armored Alliance soldier driving the vehicle, interrupted his reflections. "We might have a problem."

Hackett's smile faded, but he did not shift his attention from the slowly passing scenery his window looked upon. "Elaborate."

"Well, uh - sir, our parking space is kind of...blocked."

Irritation flared briefly in the admiral, but he controlled it as effortlessly as he always did. He had alerted the hospital staff that he was coming days ago - apparently, expecting that they would ensure parking availability in accordance had given them too much credit. Then again, he reasoned, they were not military, so perhaps the fault was his for not pressing the issue.

Hackett faced forward and shifted to get a better look out of the vehicle's front viewport. Fully anticipating the sight of civilian craft hogging the parking spaces, he began to share an action plan with the driver. "Understood. Park here for now. I'll go and - "

His words, however, trailed off, for the obstruction at hand was not vehicular at all - and the truth of it was enough to flummox even the Alliance's most unshakeable officer.

Nearly a month ago, when commander Shepard had been discovered and retrieved, brought to the hospital for care, the military's efforts to keep the news low-key had proven unsuccessful, for too many beings had witnessed his impossible trek from the rubble pile on which he had awakened. As a result of the ensuing frenzied newsfeed reports, the possibility of a crowd forming at the hospital had been acknowledged and accounted for; and for the first week of Shepard's care, Alliance guards had stood watch outside of the hospital, prepared to disperse any gathering before it could get out of hand.

Calling them off when it had appeared no such gathering would form, as it turned out, was a mistake.

"Holy shit," one of Hackett's usually mute guards, sitting next to him, said, echoing his superior's thoughts even while breaching protocol rather spectacularly. "There must be a thousand of 'em."

Fortunately for the guard, he needn't have feared any cursory reprisals. Hackett could only stare in wonderment out the front viewport, where a great, colorful crowd was occupying both the hospital's parking lot and the stretch of road before it. Like the population of London itself, the demographics on display were widely diverse - there were volus, turians, krogan, salarians, batarians, asari, elcor, humans, and even vorcha, all mingling and camping close together with what appeared to be complete goodwill. Fires were erected here and there, their smoky exhalations reaching for the heavens; tents of different sizes and configurations stood by to provide cover from the unpredictable elements of London in winter; and signs, bearing inscriptions in a multitude of languages, were held in the hands of their creators or propped up in whatever way worked.

These signs drew Hackett's attention, for while their languages were varied, many of them had one thing in common, one word which he recognized: _Shepard_.

Gathering himself, the admiral placed one gloved hand on his door's handle. "Looks like we're not the only ones here for the commander. Set down here, sergeant," he told the driver. "This crowd doesn't change anything except the amount of walking we have to do. You'll remain here and wait for us. Keep in radio contact."

These orders, delivered efficiently and crisply by Hackett, seemed to shake his soldiers out of their own stupor, as well. The driver nodded over his shoulder. "Aye, sir."

As soon as the vehicle stopped moving, Hackett dipped his head curtly at his guards and pushed his door open, stepping outside into a chill breeze. Moving with fluidity and speed born of habit and training, his guards were quickly in place flanking either side of him, and with them in tow, the admiral made his way toward the crowd and the hospital entrance beyond.

Hackett was just beginning to hope, after weaving between the boisterous aliens of the gathering for a few minutes, that he and his entourage might slip through unnoticed when a portly human woman glanced at him, did a comical double-take, and lifted a breed of megaphone to her mouth. "Admiral Hackett is here, everyone! Over here - over here, admiral Hackett - "

Hackett and his guards increased their pace, taking long strides and brushing past beings as delicately as their discomfort allowed, but could not escape the probing eyes of the alerted multitude. The admiral was promptly enduring an endless stream of backslaps, offered hands and snapping image capture tools, as well as scattered applause and appreciative whistles.

The relief he felt as he reached the stairs leading to the hospital's front entrance - also inhabited by members of the crowd but more sparsely so - was akin to a diver reaching the surface after holding in breath for too long. Glancing over his shoulder to ensure that his guards were still with him and not consumed by well-wishers (and they remained at his side, albeit with slightly crazed expressions visible through their helmet visors), he showed himself into the hospital, putting the noise and cries of the crowd behind him, all too aware that escorting Shepard back out would not be the quiet and uneventful process he had envisioned.

* * *

Liara T'soni wove a lazy trail around the hospital lobby which had, for the last month, served as her home. All around her, preparation for the departure of commander Shepard and his friends was underway, but so deeply was she in her own thoughts that she hardly noticed.

At several points of her stay at Nathan Levitt Medical Center, she had wished that Shepard would hurry up and recover, that events would increase their tempo so that she might leave and begin the next chapter of her life, and indeed, she still looked forward to exploring the archaeological wonders of the galaxy with Javik. Now, though, a great weight had settled on her heart, and a kind of silent alarm filled her entire body, because for the next chapter to begin, the current chapter had to end.

The young asari's blue eyes, vivid but sad, surveyed the scene surrounding her. Garrus stood with the krogan, constantly adjusting the sleeves of his tunic and chatting with a nervous levity. Wrex and Bont both looked no less calm than they usually did, but Grunt, just as typically, wore his emotions plainly. The tank-bred was smiling and laughing in time with his turian friend's jokes, but shot constant and furtive glances around the lobby as though fearing it might disappear if he didn't.

A fond smile on her dark lips, Liara's eyes moved toward the lobby windows, where her lover, last of an ancient people, stood with his back turned to her and his hands clasped behind his back. To the others, she knew, Javik must have appeared stoic and cold, untouched by any nerves or apprehension regarding the day's itinerary - but Liara knew better. Their empathic bond lent her a potent awareness of the shifting feelings within him, the fear which was at one moment tightly controlled and the next, overwhelming, for he was bound for the first time to a future of peace and did not know what to expect, still wondered if such a thing was a betrayal of his long-dead brothers; the sadness, that he would be saying goodbye to the friends he'd made on the Normandy, friends which had become as tightly bonded and close as a family; and the excitement, for the same thing which frightened him, the concept of a future without war, thrilled him, too.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Liara blinked but recovered from her surprise quickly, turning to face Kaidan, who stood dressed in his full Specter armor. She smiled at him and wordlessly raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled. "Old expression. Asking what you're thinking about."

"I see." Liara glanced down and smoothed the front of her white coat with matching gloved hands. When she turned her face upward, her smile remained, but her eyes were far away. She looked around again, and then back to Kaidan. "It's...strange. I should be happy, but I can't help feeling like I'm about to lose something very dear to me."

Kaidan nodded slowly and stroked his freshly shaved jaw. "Yeah. I get that. I think we all feel the same way right now." He stepped up so that he stood next to her, facing in the direction of their friends. "We've been a family for the better part of the last few years. And now..." He shrugged. "We're splitting up. Leaving the nest."

Liara placed a hand to the center of her chest as though trying to soothe the heart within. "Yes. I'm just afraid that..." She gnawed at her lip, striving to put words to her feelings and thoughts. "Oh, I don't know _what_ I'm afraid of. You're all so dear to me - the last few years have been the most important of my life - and I don't want it all to fade away. I don't want it all to become a distant memory, or forget the sounds of your voices."

Kaidan's face was somber as he watched Wrex deliver an inaudible line which sent Garrus and his fellow krogan into bouts of loud laughter. "I'm afraid of that, too. Again, I think we all are." He turned to Liara. "I gave up trying to predict the future a long time ago. It's impossible. In the end, only time will tell." He tapped his chest. "But I know _I_ won't forget. You guys are the only family I have now. And personally? I think we've been through too much together for the bond to fade away. We're all a part of each other. Always will be."

Liara appraised him piercingly for a moment, and then her expression brightened, eyes seeming to find their warmth again. She rested a hand on Kaidan's forearm. "Thanks."

Kaidan winked. "No problem." He took a step away from her and held his arms open wide. "How do I look?"

Liara crossed her arms and cocked her head to one side. "Crowd making you feel self-conscious, Kaidan?"

The black-haired Specter grimaced. "You can't tell me all those cameras and eyes out there aren't a _little_ scary." He tweaked at his glove plating. "But actually, I'm just asking because it feels like forever since I put this armor on. Afraid I messed it up."

Liara laughed musically. "Don't worry. You look _very_ sharp."

Kaidan nodded his appreciation, and then froze, brow furrowing, as faint sounds of applause and whistling filled the air. "Do you hear that?"

The asari would have replied, had not the hospital's front door opened at that moment, granting entry to admiral Hackett and greater clarity to the noise which had inspired Kaidan's question. All of the lobby's occupants turned to watch as a slightly frazzled-looking Hackett and his omnipresent protectors strode closer to them.

"Admiral," Garrus greeted, meeting him halfway whilst everyone else also made their way over. "Fashionably early, as always."

Hackett stopped a pace away from the turian, clasping his hands behind his back. "Clearly, not early enough." He indicated the entrance behind him with a motion of his head. "How long have _they_ been here?"

Wrex chortled. "Couple weeks. Started with just a few, mostly reporters. Tried to set up camp in here with us, but the staff turned 'em down like quarians on Illium."

"And so of course, they settled outside," Garrus continued for him. "Which, in turn - "

"Attracted more attention," Hackett finished grimly. He mulled over this for a few seconds, and then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure that, by now, none of you would let a few spectators get in the way of leaving this place."

"Actually," Kaidan piped up, looking around at the others, "staying here _really_ hasn't been that bad. In fact, gonna feel a little sad leaving it behind."

Hackett raised a gray eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, Kaidan, let's not push it," Garrus said wryly, crossing spindly arms over his chest. "I've known cramped military freighters more comfortable than this place. That being said..." He laughed. "I'd do it over again. The company made it all _more_ than bearable."

Hackett watched with a twinkle in his eye as the former Normany crewmates exchanged fond looks. "I've served in the Alliance Navy for more years than I care to count," he said. "I've seen dozens of ship crews and ground teams interact with each other. I've witnessed hundreds of soldiers fighting side by side, and the bond that forms as a result."

He paused, looking down at the floor, and then back up. "But I have never seen a group of warriors as close as you. I've never known a crew that would spend a month in a hospital lobby just to support their commanding officer. Commander Shepard is lucky to have you. The whole galaxy is."

Liara held one arm to her side with the opposite hand. "We've been lucky, too," she said quietly. She took a step toward Hackett. "Without you, admiral, we wouldn't be - "

Hackett stopped her with an upheld hand. "Say no more, doctor T'Soni," he said gently. "Consider it an expression of my gratitude. To all of you."

His hand lowered and shifted, so that he was offering it to her; after a moment's surprise, the asari smiled brightly and took it. Hackett's blue eyes lingered on her face, and then he moved to each of the other crewmates in turn, repeating the handshake and, in the cases of Kaidan, Garrus and Javik, performing crisp salutes.

He reached Urdnot Bont last. The krogan doctor took his hand almost reluctantly, but maintained respectful eye contact with the human admiral, a curious sight for those accustomed to seeing him as considerably more brusque.

"I have a feeling that the commander's ability to leave the hospital today is thanks in large part to you, doctor Bont," Hackett said, returning his hand to its place behind his back. "Thank you for your time and expert attention."

Bont rubbed his helmeted head in a way that almost looked embarassed, and grunt affirmatively. "Least I could do," he mumbled vaguely.

Hackett's lips twitched upward. "How is the commander?" He glanced at the others. "I take it everything is in order?"

"He's ready to go, if that's what you're asking," Bont said before anyone else could answer, sounding much more like his usual self. The krogan reached up with thick fingers and dialed at the side-clasps of his holographic visor. "He's been on physical therapy for two weeks. Combined with his intensive chem treatments and a regulated diet, he's able to walk comfortably. As long as he isn't pushed beyond that, he'll be fine."

Wrex chortled and slapped the doctor's humped back, earning an indignant glare. "That's Bont for you," he crowed. "What'd I say? Best damned doctor in the galaxy." He considered for a moment, and then added: "Maybe even beyond."

"I believe it," Hackett said, adjusting his uniform's collar. "The Krogan Union's medical matters are in good hands."

With Wrex beaming at him, the admiral turned about on his heel and took a few steps toward the stairwell. He faced the assembled friends again. "I'm not surprised all of you stuck around for this long. Now the time has come to move on. I'll go and fetch the commander. When we come back, I ask that you all be ready to depart. It's still early, but we want to avoid any chance of delays."

Nods and sounds of assent showed that he was understood. Signaling at his guards to stay behind in the lobby, Hackett cast one last glance at its residents of the last month and proceeded to the stairs, his polished shoes clicking against the white floor.

* * *

Tali was working busily in Shepard's hospital room, moving every which way and ensuring that his belongings were properly packed, organizing the various meds he'd been instructed to take with him - but all the while, her eyes were focused on him, on the man whose side she had hardly left for the last several weeks.

He was standing in full Alliance dress uniform, framed by the window, his back turned to her. It was still jarring to see him on his feet after such a long period of caring for him in bed, but the surreal nature of it was easily displaced by the happiness she felt. The nightmare prospect of an incomplete life was long-forgotten. He was healing just as her heart was, in body and, perhaps even more notably, in soul. During their many hours of comfortable discussion, nestled together under his blankets, she had come to understand that he was gaining control of his inner demons, converting the guilt they brought into more useful motivation.

Perhaps it was on those very demons that he was dwelling as she finished checking his travel bag for the umpteenth time (nothing had, in fact, vanished) and walked up behind him, her feet making barely a sound. Upon reaching him she pressed herself up against him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting the side of her helmeted head on his back. "Everything's set."

There was no reply. Tali waited for a few seconds. "Shepard?"

His body tensed perceptibly and then relaxed. "Mm," he acknowledged. One of his strong, warm hands closed over her smaller ones. "Thanks for doing all that."

Tali tightened her embrace slightly, and then pulled away. She rested a hand on his arm and prompted him to turn around. "Let me get a look at you, _commander_."

Shepard obliged, facing her fully with a crooked grin. Tali looked him up and down very deliberately, tilting her head to one side and then the other, placing a finger to her mouthpiece.

"Well?" Shepard urged. "Does everything meet madam Admiral's approval?"

Tali sighed wistfully and stepped forward so that she was barely an inch from his chest. She reached up and fidgeted with the button on his sleeve. "You should really wear this uniform more often," she teased. "You look so..._noble_. Like one of the fairy tale heroes every quarian girl dreams about."

Shepard laughed. "Oh, yeah?" He wrapped his arms around her, planting his hands on the small of her back. "Well, now you'll just have to dream about _me_."

Tali placed her hands on his chest. "I already do," she murmured.

Shepard smiled in response, but she could instantly tell that he was distracted. "You okay?"

"Yeah," the commander replied, much too hastily for her liking. He furrowed his brow briefly, and then his expression calmed. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a lot to think about. Big day."

"Yes," Tali agreed softly, peeking past him at the window and the constantly seething sea of color visible through it. "Big crowd, too."

Shepard nodded, stealing an uncomfortable look over his shoulder and then turning back to her. "How about you?" He smiled. "Systems are 'go?'"

"Green lights across the board." Tali took a deep breath and laughed tersely. "Oh, I don't know who I'm kidding. I didn't think it was possible, but I feel even more anxious than I did before my Pilgrimage."

"Because we don't know what's next," Shepard told her, closing his hands over hers. "For the past month, we've been picking up the pieces. Doing a whole lot of sitting around and dreaming. Now..." He shrugged. "Time to dive back in. Back to improvising. A new adventure."

"'Adventure,'" Tali echoed, as though testing the word. She giggled. "I like the sound of that. Maybe no Reapers this time?"

"None of those," Shepard allowed. "But in case you've forgotten, _Koris_ lives on Rannoch - "

He was interrupted by Tali, who slapped lightly at one of his hands and shot him a warning look. He laughed. "Kidding, kidding. I'm just glad Jorgal Finn didn't eat them alive or something on the way home."

"There was nothing to worry about," Tali said lightly. "You haven't seen my auntie Raan fight. Finn wouldn't have stood a chance."

"Now _that_ I would pay to see." Shepard grinned and leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against Tali's visor. "Don't be nervous," he said in a voice both gentle and firm. "We're taking a plunge today, but we're doing it together."

Tali smiled up at him, thanking the Ancestors and gods of various origins, the same ones she had cursed and condemned while mourning Shepard's apparent death, that he was able once more to be her rock, her source of calm and strength. She rested her head against his broad chest and they stood there like that for a time, lost in their own contemplations and entertaining visions of what the future might hold.

They barely stirred when the door opened - by that point, no one in the hospital would have been surprised to see them in a display of affection - but both did turn their heads to recognize admiral Hackett as he strolled measuredly into the room, hands clasped behind him.

"Admiral," Shepard greeted him, straightening his uniform as Tali grudgingly pulled away. "Good to see you, sir. I wasn't expecting you so early."

Hackett stroked silently at his facial hair for a moment, glancing from the empty bed nearby to the man it had held for so long. "Medical science is an amazing thing," he said at last. "To see you on your feet, a mere month after those injuries you sustained..." He shook his head. "Happy endings in this life are rarer than I'd like. I'm glad that this is one of them."

Shepard accepted the admiral's proffered hand and listened as he continued speaking. "As for the reason I'm here early, it's because we were hoping to preempt any delays or complications. After pushing through that mob outside, I think it's safe to say the plan failed."

"You didn't know about the crowd?" Tali asked good-naturedly, crossing her arms. "So, Alliance intel doesn't have tabs on _everything_ that happens in the galaxy, after all."

"For the time being," Hackett conceded mysteriously, and then he smiled at the quarian, exchanging a handshake with her. "I hear you've been taking good care of our officer, admiral Zorah."

"Yes, well, he's _my_ officer, too," Tali said more than a little possessively, linking arms with Shepard for emphasis.

"Of course." Hackett eyed Shepard. "Fair to say that all the medicine in the world can't compare to the company of a loved one, isn't it, commander?"

"You could say that." Shepard grinned down at his quarian companion, whose effervescent eyes locked with his.

Hackett adjusted the brim of his cap. "Which reminds me," he said with a touch of hesitation. "I hate to bring this up on today of all days, but we need to resolve the matter I brought up last time I was here. I can't postpone it any longer."

"It's okay, admiral," Shepard assured him. "I appreciate that you gave me so much time. As it turns out, I - " he smiled once more at Tali. " - _We_ reached a decision a long time ago."

Ever shrewd, Hackett's lips curled upward subtly, giving him the distinct appearance of one awaiting an answer already known - but wait he did, straightening his posture and clasping his hands.

Shepard gently extricated himself from Tali's hold and stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. "It's been my honor to serve in the Alliance," he said. "It's a part of me, more so than a lot of things. It's helped shape me into the man I am today."

He slumped a bit, then, as though relieved of a long-carried burden, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "But I've never been much of a juggler," he said quietly. "And I didn't go through hell for the Alliance. I did it for...something more..." he trailed off, gazing at Tali. He inhaled and returned his attention to Hackett. "With all due respect, sir, you'll have to deliver my rejection to the admiralty, along with my resignation...and gratitude."

Hackett nodded slowly. He made no comment for what seemed an interminably long time before responding. "And not a single man or woman will think less of you for it." He reached out and placed a gloved hand on the commander's shoulder. "You know, Shepard, it takes a big man to commit to something like admiralty, but between you and me, I think it takes a much _bigger_ man to do what you just did. To focus with conviction on what's really important."

Shepard could only smile, meeting his military superior's gaze, the both of them reflecting on years of cooperation in harrowing times, on dangers mutually shared, events that would become the stories passed down to the next generations; and then Hackett squeezed his shoulder and withdrew his grip, his twinkling eyes briefly meeting Tali's.

He took a step back and gestured at the packed bags resting on the bed. "If you're ready, commander, let's get you out of this place."

This snapped Shepard back into the present. He shot another vaguely uncomfortable look out the window and then, in uncanny tandem with Tali, moved toward the bags. "Right, uhm - I guess we're ready."

Hackett intercepted the lovers before they could reach their goal, picking up the bags himself. Tali looked aghast. "Oh, no, admiral, you don't have to do that - "

"With all due respect, miss Zorah, I outrank you here," Hackett said, his goatee unable to fully conceal a grin. "I'll carry any bags I want." He strolled over to the door before Shepard or Tali could say anything, stopping short of it and facing them. "I'll go ahead to the transport and meet you there. Take your time - your crew is waiting in the lobby. I imagine you'll want a few moments with them before heading outside." He turned halfway and then paused. "And you may want to make sure you're looking photogenic. They're taking pictures for the history books out there."

He left, both hands laden with Shepard's and Tali's bags. The commander stared at the door as it closed behind him, and then looked to Tali, only to find her taking Hackett's advice rather literally, scrubbing vigorously at her purple visor with a cloth presumably pulled from one of her innumerable suit pockets.

He arched an eyebrow, but made no comment, opting instead for a fond smile. He offered his arm to her. "Well, miss vas Normandy, are you ready to go home?"

Tali stowed the cloth away, looking embarassed by her momentary lapse into vanity. She wrapped her arms around his and pressed close to him, taking one last look around the room where she'd been reunited with her love, dreamt of the future which was now arrived, and had, in many ways, undergone as much healing as Shepard.

"Yes," she said, turning to the threshold beyond which tomorrow awaited. "Let's go."

* * *

Unbeknownst to Shepard, the way he felt as he made his way through the corridors of Nathan Levitt Medical Center one last time, arm in arm with his quarian soulmate, bore no small similarity to Tali's state of mind when she had first ascended the stairs and gone to his room. Nothing seemed real - not the nurses continuing about their everday routine, not the various beings who uttered quiet gratitude to him in passing or gave respectful nods, not the glimpses out windows of a London strikingly vibrant; and in the back of his mind he wondered if any of it was real, if he was witnessing some form of afterlife or, most chillingly, if it was all some hallucination conjured by the Reapers as part of insidious indoctrination.

Such thoughts were fleeting, however, and he was given no time to dwell on them, for he was soon vaguely aware that they were descending the stairwell which led to the lobby. Shepard gulped. He would almost have preferred, at that moment, to dash across the barren and churned soil of London with Reaper weapons firing at him again than to take another step - because what, exactly, was he supposed to say to friends who had done more for him than he could ever repay?

Garrus's voice met his ears as soon as Shepard and Tali turned the last corner and emerged into the lobby. "There he is! The man of the hour, and his much prettier companion."

Shepard forced a grin despite his fluttering nerves, which were in no way soothed when all of his friends regarded him and moved to meet him. "They haven't kicked you out yet?"

"Oh, they've _tried_, but then they remember that they're dealing with the crew of the goddamn _SSV Normandy_ and back off." Garrus reached him and punched his shoulder lightly. "By the spirits, Shepard, you look good as new. Are you sure you haven't just been taking this place for a ride? Taking advantage of free food and housing?"

Shepard laughed, but any comeback was forgotten as Liara wrapped him in a hug. "How are you feeling?" she asked, stepping back and smiling broadly.

"I'm okay," Shepard answered as Wrex and Grunt took turns ruffling the top of a dismayed Tali's hood. He rolled his arms about. "Ready to get out of here."

Wrex approached him. "Tell me about it. It hit me this morning. I've been sitting in a _waiting room_ for a month. Me. Leader of the Krogan Union." He jabbed a powerful finger toward Shepard, a mirthful glint in his eye. "I expect you to do the same when_ I_ save the universe and need a hospital."

"Not like you had anything better to do," Urdnot Bont muttered under his breath, muscling his way through the gathering and with a typical lack of ceremony setting to various pokes and prods at Shepard's body. "Everyone knows your broodmate does all the work anyway."

"Y'know, words hurt, doc," Wrex opined, but his toothy grin testified otherwise.

Apparently satisfied with his physical diagnosis, Bont peered into Shepard's eyes and gave a curt nod. "Good. As of right now I'm releasing you from my care. Your woman here - " he indicated Tali, who blinked but did not protest the branding. " - has my contact information. If you feel your condition taking a turn for the worse, don't be a moron and try to sit it out. Tell me so I can fix it."

"Okay." Shepard extended a hand. "Thank you for everything, doctor Bont. I owe you a lot."

To his minor surprise, the krogan instantly gripped his hand and pumped it firmly. "You owe me nothing, commander."

Kaidan walked up with a grin on his face, thumbs nestled under his ammunition belt. "So, Shep. Race you to the transport?"

Shepard crossed his arms. "Do you make a habit of challenging the handicapped to footraces, Major?"

"Only the ones I know I can beat." The Specter embraced Shepard briefly. "Take it easy. Don't want you breaking anything. Staying here has been fun, but I don't think I could take another day."

"Don't worry about that, Kaidan," Tali said, pressing herself against the commander's side and staring with playful intensity up into his face. "He's on a _very_ short leash."

Javik stepped closer to the gathering, linking arms with his asari partner. "We are both cursed with willful mates, commander. I advise you to take her words seriously, or she may well end up using actual constraints."

"Duly noted," Shepard said dryly, smiling at the prothean and then nearly doubling over as Grunt slapped him on the back.

"I can't believe it, Shepard," the tank-bred krogan roared jubilantly, drawing a wince from Javik, whose heightened sense of hearing no doubt seemed a curse for that split second. "You'd make a better krogan than most _krogan_. _Nothing_ keeps you down for long!"

"If you keep slapping my back like that, that might change," Shepard wheezed. Grunt guffawed in response and slapped it again.

After rediscovering his ability to breathe, Shepard looked around at his friends, one arm wrapped around Tali's hip and an unquantifiable number of thoughts and emotions racing across his mind. In the end, though, he was still just a soldier, not a speechmaker, and he settled for the only words that he could muster. "Guys, I..." He averted his gaze, and then looked back to them. "I don't know what to say, or...how to say it. Staying here like this, for a _month_...all the visits..." His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "Thank you."

Liara and the others smiled at each other. She stepped toward the commander. "Shepard, we should be the ones thanking _you_. None of us would be who we are today without you. None of us would even _know_ each other, and we certainly wouldn't have defeated the Reapers without your determination and leadership.

"But most of all, you've been a _friend_ to us. You've listened when we had a problem and couldn't get it out of our heads. You've given us advice and guidance. Goddess, Shepard, you've put your life on the line countless times to help us resolve personal problems. You're a great man, and it's been our honor to know and serve with you."

Shepard shook his head numbly, his eyes glistening. "No," he said, voice wavering a little. "I'm not. I'm just a soldier. _You_ guys are the great ones - _you_ guys are the ones - " He looked around agitatedly, and then pulled away from Tali, stepping toward Garrus. "_You_, Garrus - I mean, without you, I would have gone crazy - you've always stood by me and never lost hope - "

His eyes swept the assembly, and he moved to the krogan. "And _you_ guys - Wrex, Grunt - you taught me so much, you fought so hard - " He swallowed audibly and turned to Kaidan, placing both hands on the biotic's armored shoulders. "Kaidan – hell, there's nothing I can say - you're the brother I never had - "

He shook his head again, just as distractedly, and approached Liara and Javik. "Liara - you poured everything you had into fighting the Reapers - you were a voice of reason even when - " His eyes flitted to Javik. "And Javik - I've never seen a more committed fighter - without you, I don't - "

Shepard took several steps back, away from everyone, looking strangely vulnerable and exposed, his emotions nakedly visible on his face. His eyes found Tali, watching him with concern, and he walked to her, pressing close and placing one hand tenderly on the side of her visor. "And Tali...my Tali..."

He squeezed his eyes shut. His friends glanced at one another, unsure of what to do; but when Shepard looked at them once more, eyes still shining, he spoke, quietly and with composure. "No, Liara," he said. "I'm nothing without my crew."

All apprehension evaporated, and everyone gathered close around Shepard and Tali, providing touches of comfort and solidarity; they remained in this huddle for a while, each understanding without words the thoughts and feelings of the others, until finally they mustered and moved as one toward the hospital's entrance, old comrades embarking on their last journey together.

* * *

It was deathly quiet when the former Normandy crew stepped out into the open London air. The horde of spectators stood all facing toward them, many craning their necks to get a good look at the beings which, by all accounts, were responsible in no small part for their continued existences.

Shepard tightened his grip on Tali's hand and nodded at his friends on both sides of him. He took his first step forward, down one entrance stair and then another. The others followed suit, looking around with awe - the crowd seemed much bigger than it had from inside.

The group passed the small cluster of reporters, mostly asari and human, standing on the side of the stairs. For whatever reason, not a one of them opened their mouths to ask questions or press for an interview, though their camera drones diligently captured every movement.

"Well, this is awkward," Garrus grumbled.

Shepard noticed, as they reached the final stair, that Hackett's Alliance guards were standing at the front of the crowd awaiting them. Once the Normandy crew reached them, the soldiers turned about and gently began pushing members of the crowd aside, forging a path through the multitude.

It was impossible not to look around at some of the diverse faces. Shepard turned his head from side to side, eyes sweeping the mob, noting the turian, asari, salarian, vorcha, human, krogan, volus and elcor who gaped at him and his friends, some of them whispering to each other, perhaps to comment that they looked awfully unremarkable considering their reputations.

After a minute or two of continued progress in this vein, just as it seemed they might clear the crowd without a single sound being uttered, an asari woman lunged out at Shepard and grasped his arm tightly. The commander's eyes widened in surprise - the Alliance guards made to subdue the woman, but something in her eyes, some unspoken message in them, compelled Shepard to hold up a hand, halting the soldiers before they could reach her.

The asari, clearly in her Matriarch years, skin a dark pink and with bright blue eyes, reached into a pocket and pulled out a datapad which displayed an image of two younger-looking asari, both with her skin color. "My daughters," the woman said thickly, as though fighting to contain emotion. "Unara and Besari."

"They're beautiful," Shepard started to say placatingly, but she continued like she hadn't heard.

"The younger - Besari - " the asari's slender finger pointed at one of the daughters. "She died when the Reapers hit Thessia."

Liara, standing just behind Shepard, covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a sympathetic sound. Shepard's face grew solemn. "I'm sorry."

The woman shook her head and indicated the other depicted daughter. "Unara - she was on Thessia, too. Hiding in tunnels. It was only a matter of time until she - and I couldn't - " she placed a hand on her chest and swallowed. Her eyes turned up to Shepard's face; her grip tightened. "She's alive because of what you did. What you all did," she added, looking at the other crewmates. "Thank you, commander. A thousand times, thank you."

Shepard, at a loss for words, worked his mouth a few times and nodded. The asari mother released her grip and stepped back into the crowd, eyes never leaving his face.

A man standing near her, a tall and muscular human with dark skin wearing a construction worker's garb, began to clap, bringing both mighty hands together slowly but loudly, nodding approvingly. Shepard stared at him, still unable to do more than watch - but then he had to turn his attention to another nearby being, this one a turian, who also began to clap, and then another as they, too, joined in; and then he could not keep up with it, for the entire crowd was joining in, hands with varying numbers of figures and different skin textures clapping together in a timeless display of appreciation and respect.

"Oh, Keelah," Tali breathed, barely audible over the rapidly spreading din.

"Now _there's_ something to tell your grandkids about," Kaidan said in a small voice.

"My _ears_!" Javik complained in a considerably less sentimental fashion.

The rest of the voyage to the Alliance transport was a blur of continued clapping and passing backslaps, of shouted thank-yous and praises, of journalists finally snapping out of their bizarre fugue and snapping questions both rational and outlandish, of war survivors blinking away tears and smiling at the multi-species group which had fought so hard to preserve their lives. After an unknown number of minutes - or hours, Shepard could not say - the crowd thinned and the dark blue Alliance vehicle which would bear him and his friends to their futures became visible, as well as Admiral Hackett, who leaned against its side, clapping his gloved hands with a wry smile on his lips.

"You look like you just went through armageddon," the admiral shouted to be heard.

"We did," Shepard shouted back. "Time for a vacation."

"Sounds nice." Hackett gestured at the vehicle behind him. "Where to, commander Shepard?"

The former commander of the SSV Normandy, fastest ship in the Alliance navy and product of what was, at the time, unprecedented cooperation between turians and humans, looked down at Tali. They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, and then Shepard looked back to Hackett with a smile on his face. "Take us home, Admiral."

* * *

Generations later, students in history classes would see several images in their textbooks resolving the chapter on commander Shepard and the crew that helped him to fight the war against the Reapers: one of an asari and a prothean, hands joined as they clambered into an Alliance transport which, the caption said, took them to the beginnings of a long and illustrious archaeological career; one of a black-haired human biotic, the second human Specter, comforting a mourning woman from the crowd which had formed outside Nathan Levitt Medical Center, arms wrapped around her; one of a decorated turian soldier, formerly a C-Sec officer, arms slung around the shoulders of the chieftain of the Krogan Union and his most trusted subordinate, a laughing tank-bred (also visible was a grumpy-looking doctor with blue robes); and most memorably, an image of the commander himself, locked in a kiss with the quarian woman he would spend the rest of his life with, her visor sitting forgotten on the ground while the crowd behind them cheered raucously.

It was, many students would decide, a nice way to end a war.

**A/N: **And that's it! Final chapter. Big thanks to everyone who followed the story, particularly those of you who left a review…or two…or three. Hope you had some fun while reading.


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